


Attack on High-School Athletics

by pengiesama



Series: Attack on High-School Athletics [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Preschool, Anal Sex, Bad Parenting, Crossdressing, F/F, Gen, Hand Jobs, Humor, M/M, Oral Sex, Sports
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-11
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-19 03:08:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 35,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/878712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pengiesama/pseuds/pengiesama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sina High School was not known for its stellar sports program. It was, however, known for its ability to take everyone else down with it."</p>
<p>Sina High School goes through about a dozen different sports attempting to find a single one in which they can score a win against their arch-rivals, the Titans. Will they stop being abject failures before their school's funding gets butchered?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Attack on Tennis

**Author's Note:**

> All of my knowledge of sports comes from gay sports anime. Send help.

Sina High School was not known for its stellar sports program. It was, however, known for its ability to take everyone else down with it.

This semester they’d tried their hand at tennis, and through a dozen lost balls, a broken net, and an all-out brawl on the doubles court, had kept up the proud Sina tradition of losing to their arch-rivals from East High, the Titans. It wasn’t a total wash, though. During the doubles massacre Eren had gotten to kneecap a Titan with his racquet, and it was sick as hell to watch Annie punch out that ref that’d gotten up in her face. And no one even got arrested this time – that was probably thanks to their new coach, Levi. There was a rumor going around school that he had connections in the mob and was fucking the chief of police.

There was probably a grain of truth to the rumor, Eren mused, as he glanced at Coach Levi polishing his pocket knife in the front seat of the team bus, with an oddly pleased expression on his face. He never made any secret of doing only coaching duty to fulfill his community service requirement.

Armin made a soft noise in his sleep, and adjusted his head more comfortably on Eren’s shoulder. Eren nosed his hair and sighed. The doubles massacre had been set off by a Titan jeering across the court about how the reflection of the sun off Armin’s braces was giving Sina an unfair advantage. Armin was sensitive about his teeth, so Eren did the right thing as his friend, doubles partner, and boyfriend by rushing over, vaulting the net, and breaking the strings of his racquet over the offending Titan’s ugly fucking face. He’d gotten punched in the head for his trouble, and that’d sent Mikasa rushing the court to help, and like a well-oiled domino machine…was that the right metaphor? Eren thought to himself for a moment. Well, metaphors aside, the important thing was that the whole Sina team had jumped in to help by the end. Even Coach Hanji and Coach Levi were screaming at the Titans’ coaches.

Mikasa sat on his other side on the bus seat, contentedly clicking through her e-reader. Annie snoozed quietly on the other side of the aisle, seats to herself, hoodie up and earbuds in. He heard Jean ranting up at the front of the bus how they’d get those Titans next time – Eren thought they’d gotten them pretty damn well this time. That asshole whose kneecaps he shattered sure wouldn’t be talking shit about his boyfriend anymore, much less play sports.

Overall it was a real great experience.

Eren pressed a kiss to the top of Armin’s head, and rested his chin there, closing his eyes.

-

“…since we haven’t been invited back to the regional tennis championship next year, I think it’s safe to say that the tennis team’s down and out,” Armin said. He rustled through some papers, frowning. “Back to the drawing board. If we raise some money with another car wash, maybe the school will let us back in the basketball court. I think they’ve probably gotten the lights back in the ceiling, by now.”

Eren snorted. Bertholt was the only one of them who looked like he belonged on a basketball court, especially next to those hulking shithead Titans. Everyone knew they were all hopped up on ten kinds of steroids. Eren sprawled out more thoroughly on the floor of his bedroom, and gave a slow, easy stretch.

“Whatever we can get to face off with those fuckers one more time. I’ll even do swim team again, so long as Jean doesn’t insist on wearing that yellow sack wrap.”

“Speedo. I don’t think they’ve fixed the pool filter after last time, though. Or gotten the stains off the walls.”

Eren’s mouth twitched with pride at the memory. Armin gave him a good-natured swat to the forehead with a rolled-up liability form.

“Don’t get too proud. We need to start winning games.”

“I don’t see how tennis was a lose for us. They certainly didn’t win.”

Armin gave him a flat stare. “A win in a sporting event is a determined by a demonstration of your skill at playing the game. Not by putting the other team in traction.”

“…coming from the guy whose plays landed us our perma-ban from football?”

Armin’s mouth twitched, and he suddenly became very invested in tapping his sheaves of paper perfectly in line. After a fashion, he replied,

“…I no longer retain liability for my actions when I hear our female teammates being collectively referred to as ‘a bunch of dykes.’ Regardless of how many times Ymir called the descriptor apt.”

Armin took off his glasses to rub at his eyes, sighing. He wore contacts for games, even if they bothered his eyes, and pulled his hair back into a tiny ponytail. The ponytail was still there, Eren noted, and his fingers itched to snag the hair-tie; to let Armin’s hair fall and settle at his chin.

“We need to start winning games,” Armin repeated, firmly. “Or else our school’s funding gets hacked to bits. No more arts, no more music - ”

“No more chances to kneecap people,” Eren added. It was a pretty terrible fate to be had.

Armin whapped him again with the paper. Eren reached up to steal his hair-tie, and, stretching it across his fingers, shot it across the room.

They should let him handle plays sometime, and not just Armin. Sometimes his plans landed the team in court, sure, but sometimes they made Armin give him that _smile_. Sometimes they made Armin lean down to press his lips against the side of Eren’s mouth, his hair tickling at Eren’s cheeks. Eren reached up to smooth Armin’s hair back with his fingers; his hand settling at the back of his head, holding him there, right in place. Armin’s own hand came to rest on Eren’s jaw, to tilt it so their lips met.

A great end to a great day, Eren thought, as his other arm looped around Armin’s waist to pull him down to rest on top of him. He got to make a bunch of fuckers bleed and got to make out with his boyfriend. Armin gave a soft moan and parted his lips, his tongue darting out to trace Eren’s teeth. A _great_ end to a _great_ day, and, oh god, Armin’s thigh was in a _great_ position –

There was a knock at the door. Of course there was. Armin froze and scrambled off Eren hastily. Eren glowered at the door with the deepest rage a blueballed teenager could fathom.

“Dinner’s ready, boys,” Eren’s mother called from the other side. “Mikasa’s stopped by to visit, too.”

At least she was considerate enough to not barge in, Eren grumbled to himself. Facing your mother with a raging hard-on was just super awkward for everyone.

“Be down in a sec.”

Eren heaved a loud, heavy sigh. Armin was back to straightening his papers, his cheeks stained red. He looked over at Eren, hesitant.

“…I was thinking maybe baseball next time?”

Eren stared at the ceiling, thoughtfully. Baseball. You could kneecap someone real pretty with those bats.

Baseball sounded good.


	2. Attack on Baseball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Scouts fail at baseball but Eren and Armin succeed at getting off, at least.

Bottom of the ninth. Bases loaded. Down to the last bat. Literally, in this instance, as Eren had broken all the spares. It was really weird that tennis racquets were more durable than baseball bats in a brawl, Eren mused, only half-listening to Jean waving his captain dick around in their team huddle. Blah blah, hustle, blah, reach for the stars, blah, stop physically attacking the other team or we’ll get a no contest again, blah…

Their cheerleading squad was getting pretty hyped up this game; probably because they hadn’t been allowed to cheer during the tennis match. Some bullshit about cheer squads disrupting the game.

“Massacre them!” Krista shrieked through her megaphone from atop her precarious perch on Bertholt’s shoulders. “Flay the skin from their bones and sacrifice their filthy meat to the deep old gods! Can I get my Scouts to say what!?”

“…what?” Bertholt offered, hesitantly.

“LOUDER!” Krista screamed.

“WHAT! WHAT!” Bertholt hastily screamed back, shaking his single pom-pom for emphasis.

What the Scouts’ cheer team lacked in numbers, they made up for in enthusiasm. Bertholt had retired from being in the line of fire after the team’s dabbling in basketball; he hadn’t been on-board with Eren’s plan to scale him and use him as a springboard to Mario-hop across the court on the heads of the Titans. Eren didn’t know why, it’d gone great. The refs were too busy arguing with themselves on whether it was a breach of physicality or dribbling rules, and Eren managed to score like seven slam-dunks in the meantime. Then things had gotten a little out of hand and by the end of it the gym’s lighting fixtures were shattered across the floor and Eren had needed seventeen stitches. It’d been called as a fucking “no contest” – like hell; they had at least thirty points on the Titans before the ceiling collapsed –

“…and that’s the long and short of our plan for this next inning, alright?” Armin finished, gesturing to the whiteboard.

Eren’s ears burned. He’d been so busy ignoring Jean by reminiscing about grinding his sneakers into a Titan’s face, he’d ignored Armin – and completely missed whatever they were supposed to be doing next, besides. He squinted at the writing on the board, trying to parse Armin’s shorthand, when Mikasa leaned over to him.

“You are fourth to bat. You’ll be bunting after the first three of us hit deep into the field, to throw them off,” Mikasa explained. “Armin says the second baseman is heavily favoring his non-dominant left side, and to approach appropriately. ”

“That’s probably because I shattered a bat against his skull.”

“Was it the right side of his skull?”

“Think so.”

“Then that is likely.”

Eren thought for a moment, then opened his mouth to speak.

“No,” Mikasa preemptively stated.

Eren prickled. “You didn’t even--”

“Mario-hopping is no more allowed in baseball than it is in basketball.”

Eren sulked all the way back to the bench.

He didn’t wind up getting to go to bat and test the legality of the Mario-hop in a baseball setting, anyway – Ymir broke their last bat over the head of the first-baseman when he made a crude pass at Krista. Another no contest, another game ban. They came close enough to winning for Coach Hanji to spring for a pizza party after, though.

\--

Spooning while playing Mario Kart was difficult for both parties involved, but determination went a long way into making it work.

“Sometimes I really wonder how any sporting event even accepts us anymore,” Armin sighed, squirming in his position as the little spoon.

“I thought it was because Coach Levi got us in good with the cops?” Eren nipped at the skin behind Armin’s ear, and took advantage of the distraction it caused to weave in front of Armin and steal first place and the race. Yoshi once more takes the cup. Armin grumbled and drove his elbow into Eren’s side in retaliation until Eren oofed. Toad once more was a sore loser.

“It’s the trainwreck appeal, more likely. Haven’t you seen the news teams reporting on us? They call our matches against the Titans ‘the closest you can get to a real-life Hunger Games.’”

“Awesome, I love that series. Can we make an archery team next?”

Armin chuckled low in his throat, and tilted his head back to kiss the underside of Eren’s chin. “I don’t think they’d trust any of us with projectile weapons, not now.”

Eren cupped Armin’s chin with his hand, and turned his head to press his lips to Armin’s. Armin sighed, his arms coming to loop around Eren’s neck, and – with a gentle turn and tug – moved them to lie on the floor.

Please. Please. Please. Please no parental interruptions or unexpected visitors. Eren was a healthy fifteen-year-old boy, and the only thing he wanted more than murdering their rival sports team was to frequently and continuously hump Armin’s leg like a desperate golden retriever. With his mom home all the time, with Armin’s grandpa home all the time, it made opportunities such as these preciously rare.

All the more reason to take advantage of said opportunity when it presented itself. Eren snuck his hand under Armin’s cardigan, and at Armin’s tiny, eager noise of encouragement, rucked it up under Armin’s arms. Armin seized the back of Eren’s t-shirt and gave an insistent tug, and – although he had to break the kiss to do so – Eren was happy to oblige and divest himself of it. Armin gave a soft, pleased sigh, his eyes drifting from Eren’s face to his arms. Eren felt no little twinge of pride, both in his heart, and in his cock.

Eren bent to nuzzle his face against Armin’s warm, firm stomach. He wasn’t ripped like Reiner, or Mikasa – Eren was ninety-nine percent sure he’d seen Mikasa break a washboard in half with her abs, but maybe that was a dream – but he could still throw down the hurt in whatever game they were playing this month.  And washboards weren’t quite as nice to kiss, added Eren, with a punctuating touch of lips.

Armin whimpered his name as Eren moved to unfasten Armin’s pants, to slide them off his hips, to wrap his hand around Armin’s cock. Armin’s nails dug into his shoulders, and his head fell back to the floor, mouth open and wet. Eren felt the dryness of his own mouth keenly at the sight of it.

Too long. Too long since they’d had an evening to themselves, too long since he’d been able to look at Armin’s skin outside of a locker room. Eren’s thumb rubbed at the head of Armin’s cock, rough and eager, and thrilled at Armin’s hand flying to his mouth to stifle his moan. They shared so much, as friends, schoolmates, teammates, boyfriends; all of their time was time together, and yet it was never enough. If only they could be like this all the time – Armin flushed and shaking, whimpering Eren’s name, and Eren – hard, and ready, and wanting to grab Armin by the shoulders and stuff him into his mouth…

Eren blinked away the odd thought. …well, maybe not _that_ odd. He considered the teachings of the porn squirreled away on his computer, and the half-naked Armin before him, and made the decision to press his mouth to Armin’s cock.

Armin’s eyes snapped open, and oh god, the look on Armin’s face when he gave an experimental lick. Eren’s cock throbbed painfully, and he gave himself a few rubs through his pants to focus himself again. Focus. Focus on making Armin feel good. Focus on what the porn taught you. Eren wrapped his hand around the base, and pressed his lips to the head, and tried to work his way down – Armin’s cock was so hot on his tongue, and he’d always known that he’d taste this good—

Armin gave an almost surprised shout, and his body tensed all at once. Eren choked, and coughed up the bitter, salty result. He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, and looked down at Armin – Armin, hands pressed to his face, skin cherry-red with mortification.

“I am so sorry. I am so sorry. I am so, so, so sorry,” Armin said, over and over, in a small, quiet voice.

Eren tried to parse the statement. What was there to be sorry for? Wasn’t getting off the point of getting off? Eren grimaced, and grabbed Armin’s wrists, dragging his hands from his face.

“Stop it. Look at me.”

Armin peeked one eye open. Eren pressed a soft kiss to his temple, and Armin gave a quivering sigh.

“I…I could. To you,” Armin said. He made a vague gesture. “But um. My braces, they might…”

It was not the first time that Armin’s braces had thrown a wrench into their nights together. Eren had them as well at one point – had gotten them at the same time as Armin, in a show of solidarity. In retrospect, it should have been expected that they would’ve gotten stuck together the first time they attempted to kiss after. Several frantic texts had gotten Mikasa to come over and untangle them before their parents got home, but the whole experience had left Armin humiliated, and not very eager to participate in any future smooching sessions. Eren had responded by popping his own braces off with pliers, which had upset his parents to no end, but if having janky teeth meant that he could kiss his boyfriend again, he would deal.

He didn’t exactly mind being the designated blowjob giver for the time being, either.

“That’s okay, if you could just…with your hand, anyway,” Eren mumbled, undoing his pants with shaking hands. God. If _giving_ Armin a blowjob made him feel like this, he didn’t think he could even _handle_ getting one.

Armin’s hands came to rest on his, soft and steady. He laced their fingers together, and gave a little tug for Eren to lie on top of him. Eren’s cock pressed into Armin’s bare thigh, and he groaned thickly, giving a few, unsteady thrusts. Armin’s breath ghosted against his neck, and he set his lips to his pulse point. He freed one hand to stroke down Eren’s back with his knuckles as his mouth worked at his neck, and gave his ass a short, appreciative squeeze before reaching between their bodies for Eren’s cock.

Eren’s breath hissed, short, frantic – between the press of Armin’s hand and the softness of his thighs, and the memory of Armin’s face as he took his cock into his mouth, Armin barely had to give him a minute’s attention to have him cursing and coming on him. Armin squeezed his other hand, tight, and buried his face in Eren’s hair. Eren focused on trying to breathe again.

A few minutes of companionable silence passed, with Armin gently rubbing Eren’s back with his knuckles. Eren only belatedly realized he was purring from the attention. Armin gave him a quick kiss to the forehead.

“So. You going to do that any time you cheat at Mario Kart?” he asked.

Eren grumbled against Armin’s shoulder. “Don’t hate on Yoshi. ‘s fuckin’ god tier.”


	3. Attack on Summer Camp, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer training camp is announced, we meet the Scouts' unofficial mascots, and Eren and Armin fuck in a library.

Eren had been to summer camp, once, as a kid. It was a memorable few weeks – making popsicle stick sculptures, building fires, being banned from building fires, wandering off from group nature walks with Armin and Mikasa, watching as Armin charcoaled leaves into his scrapbook with careful, eager hands, wandering off to get pretty leaves for Armin to sketch, bringing back pretty leaves, no Eren, oh no no, that’s poison ivy, oh gosh –

...it was a very itchy few weeks, actually. Whether it was the poison ivy or the fires, Eren hadn’t been invited back the next year, and Armin and Mikasa declined going without him.

Maybe this time would be different.

“The school is dumping valuable money on sending you all to training camp.” Coach Levi glowered tiredly over his shoulder, and heaved a heavy sigh. “And god fucking help me, we’re your counselors.”

“Don’t be such a negative nancy, we’ll have loads of fun!” Coach Hanji rumpled Levi’s hair, and only narrowly missed being clawed for it. “Now, everyone, we’ve gotten your training schedules written up – we’ll just need your parents to sign the release forms.”

As the Scouts’ sports career got more and more illustrious, there seemed to be more and more release forms to be signed. Hanji thunked folders the size of phonebooks onto each team member’s desk. There looked to be a new section, this time, in addition to the training camp papers – maybe the school had finally caught wind of Hanji bringing her pet pythons to practice on Thursdays.

Eren felt a chill run down his spine, and slowly looked over his shoulder to the desk behind him. Sawney, the fifteen-footer, stared back at him, a thoughtful look in its beady eyes. Eren spared a brief, panicked thought to where the desk’s previous occupant had ended up (oh good, Marco had just absconded to the relative safety of the coatroom). Sawney’s tongue flicked out to give Eren’s cheek a tender taste.

“Aww, does this tiny baby want to be a camper too?” Hanji cooed.

She lifted the sombrero from Sawney’s head to press a kiss there, and readjusted the elastic on his chin more comfortably. Hanji always had them sporting headgear in school colors. She said it was to increase school spirit. She also gave that as the reason why she let them roam around freely in the gym and team room. Eren guessed they made more imposing mascots than the Scouts’ official one, Squawkers the Eagle. Especially since Bertholt was the only one who could fit in the mascot suit, and he was never very enthusiastic about it. The coaches didn’t bother having him wear it anymore; the sight of a depressed eagle dolefully swaying back and forth to pump-up music was less than inspiring during games. Being Krista’s personal grandstand was a major step up for him.

It was Levi who finally stormed over with a can of disinfecting wipes. “You’re all dismissed,” he grumbled, snapping on a pair of rubber gloves. He shoved at Sawney irritably, until Hanji huffed and gathered the snake into her arms, guiding him gently to the floor. Levi scrubbed at the desk as he spoke. “Get those papers to me by Monday. Camp starts at the beginning of next month. Pack your bags, and I swear to god, if you forget any of your shit at home, I am kicking you off the bus and you can walk.”

A bloodcurdling scream came from the coatroom, and Marco sprinted out, lunging onto the nearest desk. Bean, the twenty-footer, sidled out of the coatroom after, blinking with sleepy eyes.

“Come on, sleepyhead, let’s get you and your brother into your walkie and get along home,” Hanji said, wheeling out the modified baby carriage. “Mama’s got a nice big ratpile all waiting for snackums!”

The room became much less tense after Hanji strolled out of the room, humming, reptiles in tow. Eren crammed the forms into his backpack messily, and heaved the whole thing onto his back. Armin, used to carrying heavy books, clutched his folder to his chest; Mikasa held hers easily under one arm.

“So,” Eren said. “Camp.”

“The training regimen looks strict,” Armin said. “But it should be a good team-building experience. And it’s a better way to spend a week or two of summer than just sitting around the house.”

Eren could think of a few better ways to spend a week or two of summer. He rested his arm on Armin’s shoulder as they walked and let his mind wander to think about those ways a bit more thoroughly. Some of the ways could be amended quite amenably to a camping setting, Eren decided, after careful deliberation.

He’d just be more careful with the poison ivy, this time.

-

Armin’s house was huge and old, with a library of equal measure. Armin’s grandpa was some big-name literary guy at the local university, and his collection was free for Armin to browse – a payment, of sorts, for Armin having to deal with a constant barrage of his grandfather’s groupies (“Artlet? _The_ Artlet?” Yeah, the one and only, and if you don’t step the fuck back, _the_ Jaeger will gladly make you.) The library was Armin’s place of choice to do his schoolwork, his team planning, and his leisure reading; Eren liked it well enough, himself. The carpet was nice and plush to flop around on while he played his handheld.

Eren cast a sullen look at the book Armin was focused on, and tried to get back to his own task; fucking up Jean’s town in Animal Crossing. Armin had signed up for a million summer classes at his grandfather’s university, as usual, and was balls-deep in the required reading. …oh, but that was an unfortunate turn of phrase. Eren only briefly mourned as his attention was inexorably pulled to the way Armin’s legs carelessly dangled from the plush chair where he sat. He scooted over on his stomach, and dragged himself up; headbutting Armin’s knees to announce his presence. Armin lowered his book, and raised an amused eyebrow.

“Out of batteries already?” he asked.

Eren rested his chin on Armin’s knee, attempting to look pitiful and pleading. It worked on some level; Armin gave a low chuckle, and smoothed one hand into Eren’s hair to provide head-scritches. Eren groaned and settled his head more comfortably against Armin’s leg. Even if Armin still had the book in his other hand, this was not an unacceptable situation. Armin was a peerless student, a peerless strategist, and peerless also in the art of head-scritches. Armin’s hand wandered to scratch behind Eren’s ear, and he felt his eyes roll back in his head. It was all he could do to not start thumping his leg against the ground like a fucking dog.

Blissed-out as he felt, however, this was not how Eren had intended his break from gaming to go – and he had not yet convinced Armin to take a break from his homework. Eren turned his face to nip at Armin’s thigh, and felt his skin burn at the sound of Armin’s tiny gasp.

He turned until he was kneeling at the foot of the chair. Chin resting again on Armin’s knee, he lightly traced his fingers up the inside of his thigh; up, and further, until his hand smoothed up to curl around Armin’s hipbone. All the while, Armin steadfastly hid his face behind his book, his other hand still in Eren’s hair; fingers curled tight in the strands.

“Armin.” Eren turned his head to nip at the inside of Armin’s wrist.

Armin’s eyes peeked down at him from the top of his book. “…I still have forty pages of reading.”

Eren rolled his head against Armin’s knee, giving a pitiful whine. The hand on Armin’s hip crept upward, teasing Armin’s shirt up to expose a pale sliver of skin. Armin breathed a heavy sigh, and set the book down on the table beside him.

“You win,” he murmured, with no bitterness to be heard.

Eren grinned, and surged up to press a kiss to that tempting patch of skin between shirt and waistband. Armin sucked in a tight breath, and breathed it out as a whimper when Eren moved lower, to mouth at his hardening cock through his pajama shorts. Eren had been practicing – _they’d_ been practicing, he amended. His mouth drifted back to Armin’s thigh, one hand working Armin’s cock through his pants, the other rucking up the leg of the loose shorts to latch his mouth to the skin there, sucking eagerly. Armin’s role in increasing Eren’s skill at giving blowjobs was vital; necessary. Eren learned by doing, and there was no more pleasant person to do it unto.

He bit kisses up Armin’s thigh, tugging up the leg of his shorts as he went, until he saw fit to bury his face in the warm juncture of his hip. Eren tugged at the waistband of Armin’s shorts, drawing them down, and shimmying them further off Armin’s legs. He couldn’t be bothered to draw back far enough to pull them off completely, not with Armin’s cock so hard and ready for his mouth, not with Armin looking at him with those eyes. He licked his lips, and Armin’s cheeks flushed an even darker red, his eyes squeezing shut.

“Eren,” he whined, desperately. “Please…please…”

Eren swallowed hard, and snuck his hand into his shorts to give his own cock some attention. He’d have to remember the lip-licking thing. Armin’s heat, Armin’s scent, Armin’s tiny, shuddering breaths, and the pull of his fingers in his hair – fuck, Eren didn’t know which of them enjoyed this more. Eren licked up the underside of Armin’s cock, getting it wet, and pressed his lips to the head. He tasted so good – he tasted so _fucking_ good. Eren couldn’t help from moaning as he took his cock further into his mouth, the heat and scent and _taste_ making his own cock throb, just as he felt Armin’s cock throb on his tongue. Armin’s thighs shivered, hands clenching and unclenching in Eren’s hair. Eren glanced up to Armin’s face, to see that wet mouth with its bitten lips. He hadn’t even stopped to kiss Armin before going straight in for his cock, Eren realized, with guilt. He’d make it up to him after; press kisses all over his neck and face before sealing their mouths together to drink him in –

Armin choked out Eren’s name, one hand flying to his mouth to stifle his cry as his muscles stiffened. Eren swallowed thickly, pulling back to gasp for breath, and pressed his face against Armin’s hip to steady himself as he jerked off roughly into his hand. Armin’s hand stroked his hair, weakly, and Eren glanced up. Armin’s hair was mussed in a gold halo against the chair’s plush back, his eyes dark, and his lips curved up, sweet and soft.

Eren groaned, and sank his teeth into Armin’s skin, his whole body shaking as he came himself dry.

He was out cold for a good few minutes, and only came back to himself when he felt Armin’s hands under his arms, pulling him up to curl into the chair with him. After they arranged themselves more comfortably – Armin, sitting on Eren’s lap sideways, legs dangling off the side of the chair – Eren set to making good on his pledge to make it rain kisses on Armin’s face.

“Eren,” Armin laughed, delighted, as Eren made his way across his cheeks and down his jawline. “Tickles.”

Oh, he’d show him ticklish. Eren pressed his lips to Armin’s as he drove his fingers into Armin’s sides, swallowing down the shriek of laughter it produced. The issue with starting a tickle fight with someone who’d known you since you were five is that it was a path to mutually assured destruction – while Armin couldn’t reach his true weak spot (feet) from his position, he could reach his underarms, and did so mercilessly until they’d successfully wrestled each other out of the chair and onto the floor into a heap of tangled limbs. They lay there on the floor, catching their breath; Armin’s head pillowed on Eren’s chest. Eren was certain Armin could hear his heart, it beat so loud. He set his hand on Armin’s back, trying to feel out the beat of his.

“Reading’s not due until the end of next week,” Armin murmured. He turned his head to gaze at him, steadily. “Dunno how much privacy we’ll have at camp.”

Well. Fucking up Jean’s town could wait for a while, Eren decided. 


	4. Attack on Summer Camp, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren has a vivid hallucination of days gone by and then endangers everyone's lives.

“For summer camp, this has been really lame,” Eren grumbled into the dirt.

The picnic benches near the lake offered a peaceful place to rest and enjoy the beauty of nature. Eren expressed his deep dissatisfaction with life by eschewing the benches in favor of lying face-down on the ground. Armin’s bare feet rubbed soothing circles into his back while he fiddled with something in his hands, occasionally leaning over to snag more supplies from the table, or exchange words with Mikasa over their progress on the project. They had offered to make Eren a part of it, but no – he was too deep in the throes of psychological torment to focus on anything else; anything other than his life’s determination, and how it was being foiled by this poor excuse for camp.

“I don’t know what you were expecting from training camp. Laps, strength training, team-building exercises; it’s all pretty standard, even with Coach Hanji and Levi as the masterminds.”

Eren despaired. Even Armin was against him, now. Couldn’t he _see?_

“We could’ve done all that at home,” Eren retorted, a bit louder than necessary. “And not wasted our time coming out here; leaving the town undefended to let those Titan fuckers do whatever they _want_ with it—”

“Eren.”

That single, solitary word from Mikasa spoke of a myriad of judgment. Eren tried to rise from the dirt to shriek his cause from the tabletop, but Armin’s feet pressed more firmly onto his back, tenderly massaging with renewed determination. Eren’s rage could not stand at full force to the assault, but he barreled on, regardless.

“Remember when we all went on that day trip to the rock-climbing place in the city!? They broke into the school and kidnapped Squawkers!”

“Yes, the mascot costume that we don’t even use,” Armin said, gently, slowly. His feet moved to massage the back of Eren’s neck, and Eren felt his body involuntarily slack into relaxation at the assault. Abandonment. Betrayal. Eren’s heart could no longer bear it, and he felt tears prickle at the sides of his eyes.  Armin was killing him softly with his words. And his tiny, adorable feetsies. “They were fined for breaking and entering, and we got the costume back the next day.”

“It was a planned assault on our one stronghold,” Eren said through gritted teeth, trying not to sob out the words. “Meant to, meant to demoralize us, to kill our spirit—”

Eren heard the snip of scissors, and Armin’s feet moved off his back. Armin knelt down beside him.

“I think you really give the Titans too much credit. We’ve all met them, and know that the concept of psychological warfare is a bit beyond them. Their school has the lowest test scores in the state for a reason,” he said, tying a colorful bracelet to Eren’s wrist.

Eren stared at the bracelet, uncomprehending. He glanced to Armin with tearful eyes. Armin smiled, showing the matching bracelet on his own wrist.

“We found some craft supplies in storage. Will making friendship bracelets with Mikasa and me help make camp a little less of a time-waster?”

The tears began to flow freely down Eren’s cheeks, the colors of the bracelet blurring in his vision. His heart felt swollen to bursting. A friendship bracelet. How could he have been so blind? His and Armin’s hopes and dreams were intertwined, inexorably, bright and beautiful as the colored thread that Armin had so carefully braided for him. For _them._

“…Eren? Are you okay?”

They truly were eternal and infinite as the bracelet’s circle symbolized. He had been so foolish to almost let the Titans split a rift between them – had Armin not proven time and again that his careful, methodical approach was an irreplaceable boon to the team? And yet Eren had been so quick to write him off as a traitor to their cause. Eren’s tears soaked the dirt beneath his face, his breath heaving in quick sobs, his hand holding Armin’s as tight as he could.

“I, oh, oh god, Mikasa, Mikasa help; I think he’s hyperventilating! Help me get him to the first aid center!”

Were they not one? Was their love not true? Had they not grown together, and laughed together, and hurt together? For so many years…

For so many years…

“Coach Hanji! Please, Eren’s—”

“Whoa! Is he foaming at the mouth? Geez, didn’t I warn you guys not to eat the purple berries…”

_For so many years…_

\--

“ _Try and make some friends, Eren. For your mother’s sake.”_

Eren stared at his father sullenly as he waved and drove away. He wasn’t a hundred percent behind this whole “preschool” thing. It sounded very suspicious. With his daddy at work, and him stuck in this strange building all day, who would be there to make sure his mommy didn’t get eaten up by a roaming monster? Eren watched television, Eren knew. It could happen.

Still, Eren thought, as he trudged up the steps, yanking on his backpack straps. Still, his mommy had asked him to go. (Eren had set up monster traps around the yard the night before, just to be safe.) His mommy had asked him to make friends, and had put two cookies in his lunchbox so he could share. None of the other kids in the neighborhood liked him, and the feeling was mutual. This preschool place was his last chance to make good on his promise to her. He’d learned a lot from watching television, about magic voodoo spells especially. All he would need is a chunk of hair from one of the kids in there, some salt, and a few magic words, and boom, instant friend.

He thought of the scissors smuggled in his backpack, the big metal ones from the kitchen, and set forth into the building with renewed purpose.

The classroom he was escorted into was fraught with chaos. The children who weren’t running around the room aimlessly shrieking were mostly gathered around a table heaped with paints and crayons; smearing themselves with the supplies rather than any of the paper in front of them. Eren looked around, frantically – which one of these kids was the least annoying-looking? Certainly not that idiot over there in the cowboy hat, riding a stick pony. The black-haired girl he was trying to talk to stomped on his foot and walked away without a word. She seemed kind of okay, maybe. Maybe that blond girl in the corner, bouncing a ball and glaring at the rest of the room, but looking her over, it seemed like it’d be pretty tough to wrestle her down and get some hair off of her –

“You must be Eren. I’m Mrs. Ackerman; your teacher.”

Eren stared up at the lady who had interrupted his thoughts. This was an intolerable rudeness, but she seemed nice enough. Eren was not beyond granting forgiveness. A question remained, though:

“How do you know my name?” Eren asked, suspiciously. This preschool place was looking sketchier and sketchier.

Mrs. Ackerman smiled. “I’m a friend of your mommy’s, though I don’t think you’ve seen me since you were just a baby. She used to bring you over to play with my little girl Mikasa, over there—” She gestured to the corner, where the black-haired girl and the blond girl were now bouncing the ball forcefully back and forth between them. Rats. They had already performed the friendship ritual. Eren would have to keep looking. “Why don’t you go put your bag in your cubby on the wall, and go sit over there by the window? That little boy who’s reading alone over there is named Armin, and I think he could use some company.”

Eren followed Mrs. Ackerman’s pointing finger, and his eyes settled on the blond boy at the window. The sun shone off his hair, so bright and gold. Eren’s eyes went wide, and his hands clutched at his backpack straps so tight that his fingers begin to tingle. He scurried over to the cubbies on the wall to messily stuff his things in, and drew out the scissors. He had to perform the friendship ritual on Armin, _now_ , before someone stole him away.

Hiding the scissors behind his back, he approached Armin’s table, slowly. He stood over him for a moment, staring. Armin hadn’t noticed him, yet; too engrossed in his book – Eren knew how to read a little, but it looked like it had a lot of hard words in it. It had lots of pretty pictures of the jungle, though. Armin’s hair fell over his face as he read, and he kept brushing it back with his hand…Eren swallowed hard, his hands beginning to sweat against the cold metal of the scissors. His original plan was to storm into preschool and wrestle down the first decent friendship candidate for a quick snip-snip, but…Armin seemed so nice, and wasn’t like the other annoying kids in the room. And his hair was just so _pretty_ , on his head.

Armin had gone still. He turned to look up at Eren, shyly. His eyes were blue like the sky and his shirt had a koala on it. It suited him well, Eren thought. Armin and koalas were both small and cute and fluffy. Eren took a deep breath, and brandished the scissors in front of him.

“I…I’m Eren, and I know you’re Armin because the teacher told me. I…” Eren went quiet, his eyes flickering from the scissors, to Armin. Armin looked nervous, and had clutched his book closer to his chest, tucking his face behind it. His eyes peeked over the top.

He…couldn’t bring himself to do it. Eren sniffled as he lowered the scissors, tears beginning to roll down his cheeks. He’d broken his promise to his mommy, and…and, Armin seemed so _nice_ , and Eren wanted to be his friend even beyond that promise. But without the friendship ritual, it just couldn’t be. He…just didn’t know how, without it. Eren dropped the scissors to the ground with a clatter, and let out a sob.

“Will you still be my friend even without magic?” he asked, wretchedly. “I have two cookies in my lunchbox…”

After a long, long pause, Armin gave the tiniest of nods. Eren almost couldn’t process the gesture, and stared at him, dumbly, all tears and snot.

“…do…do you want to sit with me?” Armin whispered, unsure, as if unused to speaking aloud. “I’m reading about the jungle.”

Eren wiped his face with his sleeve, and slumped in a chair next to Armin. He always gave himself the hiccups when he got upset. “I like the jungle,” he said, quietly. He poked the koala on Armin’s shirt. “Koalas are from Australia. They live in the jungle and eat leaves.”

Armin nodded, turning to face Eren, just the barest bit more. “My mommy and daddy are scientists. Marine biologists,” he said, pronouncing the word carefully and clearly. “They’re gone most of the time to study other places, so I live with my grandpa. But last year they took me on a trip to Australia with them. I went with them on a boat and hugged a koala before that.”

Eren’s eyes went wide. The idea of travelling that far was thrilling. The idea of hugging a koala, equally so. Eren tried to visualize Armin hugging a koala, and felt his tummy go all funny. It sounded really, _really_ cute.

Armin dropped his gaze back to his book, tracing his fingers over a picture of the ocean. “I like the jungles, but I like the ocean even better. I want to be a marine biologist too, so I can be with them more. And study all the things in the water, too.”

“I can help,” Eren said, urgently, eagerly. “I’ll study with you and we can go together. I’ll keep you and your mommy and daddy safe in the water. There are sharks there.”

Armin shook his head. “Sharks only kill about one person a year,” he said, matter of fact. “There are way scarier things in Australia. The top five most poisonous snakes in the world are found there, you know…”

Eren listened to the lecture on Australia’s venomous beasties, rapt.

The friendship ritual had been sealed.

\--

Eren blinked open his eyes, blearily, to Armin’s worried face. He groaned, his hand drifting up to touch the wet washcloth on his forehead.

“Where…”

“The first-aid center,” Armin said, hands moving to Eren’s shoulders to keep him lying down. “You passed out while we were at the lake. Coach Hanji thinks you just got overheated in the sun…”

Armin glowered at where Sawney sat on a nearly table. “ _You_ can leave now. Eren’s still alive.”

Sawney flicked his tongue out irritably and slid down from the table, primly slithering out of the room; no doubt to find less well-guarded snacks to stalk.

Eren shook his head, blearily. “No, I…I was just having a flashback…”

If anything, the clarification seemed to make Armin more concerned. Mikasa looked him over from her chair at his bedside, frankly.

“I feel as though not being able to expend his energy directly on games against our opponent has taken its toll on his emotional state,” she said.

Eren tried to struggle upright against Armin’s pleas. “I was just having a moment! Show some respect over the meaning of friendship bracelets!”

“Why don’t we get you over to the bathrooms, so you can wash your face!” Armin interrupted desperately, catching Eren’s flailing hands in his. He rubbed at Eren’s knuckles with his thumbs, soothing, and leaned in to give a quick peck to his nose. “You’ve still got a few smudges from rolling around at the lake.”

Soothed despite himself, Eren allowed Armin to help him out of bed and guide him to the bathrooms, Mikasa dutifully following behind – to provide either assistance or restraint as needed, no doubt, Eren thought begrudgingly.

As Armin’s hands went to turn on the taps, he heard voices from beyond the thin bathroom walls. Curious, he grabbed Armin’s wrist to stop him, and craned his ears to catch the source.

“…missing supplies…missing food, too. Went through the kids’ cabins today while they were training to check if it was any of them, and nothing.”

Eren pressed his ear closer to the wall to listen. The coaches were discussing what seemed to be a matter of grave import.

“Sure it wasn’t Blaus for the food? Or your damn snakes?” came Coach Levi’s reply. “Don’t doubt that either of them could put this big a dent in our inventory…”

“Unless they’re able to cart off and chow down on a third of our canned goods in one night, I doubt it,” said Coach Hanji. “And what would she or my babies want with bandages and painkillers? I already had to drive down to town to stock up again last week; if we get hit again by whoever’s doing this, our budget can’t handle it. We’re gonna have to take the team home early…”

Eren’s eyes went wide. His mind was not the finely-honed razor that Armin’s was, but he could put together the simple facts.

One: mysterious individuals were stealing their food and medical supplies.

Two: without these supplies, the Scouts’ camp would have to be cut short, forcing them back home without the training they had come for. Leaving them wide open to Titan attack.

One plus two equaled Titans.

Armin’s expression was full of concern as he watched Eren’s mental calculus. “Eren,” he said slowly. “Mikasa and I heard that too. Let’s let the coaches handle this, and see how it pans out—”

Eren’s fist met the wall. “First Squawkers, now this,” he said, darkly. With grim determination, he seized Armin by the hand, and raced out of the bathroom, Mikasa easily jogging along beside them. “We’re gonna spread the word. Team meeting in the Boys’ Cabin, tonight.”

\--

The team had been surprisingly receptive to Eren’s call for a meeting – he’d made sure to scream it extra loud over the loudspeakers, after all. (“Do you really think the coaches didn’t hear that?” Armin had asked, mournfully. Let them hear it, and join in this battle.) Even Annie, who rarely showed up to even regular team meetings, was hovering in the back, one eyebrow arched. And so, Eren presented the evidence: missing food, missing supplies. The fate of training camp hanging in the balance.

“So what are you suggesting we do?” Jean asked, doubtfully. “Just sit around outside the supply building every night until they hit it again?”

“That’s _exactly_ what I’m suggesting,” Eren snapped back. “’Cause those supplies clearly need guarding. According to what I overheard from Coach Hanji, their last attack was last week, so they’ve gotta be coming back soon. We post some of us to watch the building nightly, we take shifts; we set traps, and we wait them out.”

Armin raised a weary hand. “Aside from my doubts that these thefts were organized by our rival team,” he began. “May I ask how we should explain our sudden lack of a proper sleep schedule to the coaches?”

“Mountain lions!” offered Connie, eagerly. “Mountain lions roaring all night and keeping us awake. I gotta say, I’m feeling what Jaeger’s saying – what else are we supposed to do, when someone’s trying to starve us out of here? Titans or no.”

Sasha’s eyes burned fiercely as she nodded. “I ain’t gonna get starved out. We’re gonna hunt them down and take back what’s ours.”

Connie raised both of his hands, and Sasha put down the pocket knife that she was ominously sharpening to begin their secret handshake. Said secret handshake could take up to ten minutes to complete, so Eren left them to it, and continued around the room for participants. His gaze landed on Bertholt, who donned a panicked look and attempted unsuccessfully to hide behind Reiner.

“This is revenge for Squawkers, Bertholt! Are you with us!?”

Bertholt stared at Reiner, helplessly. Reiner gave a cocky smile, and clapped his hand over Bertholt’s, squeezing.

“Revenge for Squawkers!” he confirmed. “You with me, Bertl?”

Bertholt sighed and averted his gaze to the ground, nodding weakly. “…I hated that costume…” he mumbled.

Annie was next. Eren opened his mouth to speak, and Annie turned to leave the cabin. However, she was stopped at the door by Mikasa. Their eyes met. After a solid thirty seconds of silent staring, punctuated by Connie and Sasha’s secret handshake still proceeding, Eren decided to leave the convincing to Mikasa.

Krista…Krista. Krista, who was not especially prone to violence; only getting worked up during games, via a complex combination of the hectic atmosphere and the sight of Ymir in a tank-top, cracking skulls together. Eren would have to take a different approach.

“…please?” he offered, hesitantly.

Krista seemed to consider the thought for a moment, then nodded, solemnly. “It’s just not fair, is it,” she whispered, shakily. She blinked back tears, and gazed up at Ymir. “They need to be stopped. They need to be _punished._ ”

“I have a boner,” Ymir stated, frankly.

Mikasa appeared to still be convincing Annie, so that just left Jean and Marco. Marco shrugged helplessly, nudging Jean’s shoulder.

“It can’t hurt to at least sign up for the watch team,” he said, reasonably. “And it’ll only be for another week or two, until we’re scheduled back home.”

Jean sighed explosively. “Fucking _fine_ , I just – are you two done yet!?” he suddenly yelled at Connie and Sasha, who were up to the butt-bump-while-rhythmically-yipping section of their handshake. The noise almost, _almost_ made the gentle, distant tinkling of metal escape Eren’s ears. He lunged to the window, squinting through the darkness. Behind him, he felt the rest of the team gather to peer curiously over his shoulder.

“That was my Titan trap,” Eren whispered, urgently. “Set ‘em up right after nightfall, outside the storage building. _Told_ you they’d come.”

“So what do we do now?” Jean hissed back. “I hope to god that you got us some baseball bats, or shovels, or a fucking _flashlight_ —”

“You’ve got your fists! Let’s move out!” Eren raced out of the cabin, a stampede of his teammates’ feet thundering behind him. The shadowed figures milling around the supply building jolted at the sound and sight of a gaggle of shrieking teenagers closing in on them, and fled into the woods, dropping their ill-gotten goods as they went. Eren roared and bounded into the trees after them, scrambling over logs and tripping over rocks in the darkness. The lights that the thieves carried scrambled further and further away, until he finally lost sight of them, tripping over one final log in an angry, screaming heap. Armin raced to his side, pen-light glowing; the only one who came prepared, per usual.

“Eren,” he whispered, urgently. “Those people didn’t look like the Titans. Or teenagers at all. This is dangerous; we have to get back to camp to tell the coaches…”

Eren tried to climb to his feet, unsuccessfully – a twisted ankle, how fucking cliché. The rest of his team had caught up, by that point; fuck, what a sight he made, being dragged up by Mikasa and nearly draped across her shoulder. Loathe as he was to absolve the Titans of any suspected wrongdoing, he had to agree with Armin, in retrospect; the shouts of the thieves were too hoarse and old, the bodies too stocky. It was just a straight line back to camp, but to come back empty-handed, with a screwed-up foot, it was—

Eren’s thoughts stopped dead at the sound of a gun cocking.

“Fuckin’ brats,” growled one man. Shotgun at the ready, he and his associate crept closer to the group. “Get down on the fuckin’ ground, hands on your heads.”

What choice did they have? Eren cursed himself over and over as Mikasa lowered him to the ground, and positioned herself between him and Armin and the men, protecting them as best she could. Even Mikasa looked scared. Fuck, they were just a bunch of fifteen-year-olds being threatened by two assholes with guns. Eren looked over at Armin, at the way his shoulders shook, at the tiny, colorful bracelet on his thin wrist. Armin had a future, he was going to go study in Australia, why, why, _why_ did Eren do this to him –

“Bet your parents will pay us real nice for babysitting you little fuckers for a while. Bunch of rich little brats at camp, ain’t ya?” One of the men stomped over in his filthy boots to Armin, and yanked him up by the hair. Armin’s choked-back scream made Eren’s blood boil with rage and terror, and only the press of a shotgun barrel at the back of his neck made him go back to his knees. “Yeah, got your little girlfriend. Start marching.”

It was difficult to keep up with the man dragging Armin along by the hair with his ankle, but letting him out of his sight was not an option. Eren caught sight of Jean glaring at him, and fuck, did he not deserve it for once. God. If they – no, _when_ they made it out of this alive, he would just hold Armin tight forever, and do everyone’s cleaning work for three months.

After what seemed like ages, they came to a run-down shack in a clearing. The man dragging Armin paused, spat, and whirled around to face his associate. Something tore its way into Eren’s heart at the sight of the pain and fear on Armin’s face; something deep and ugly, that he didn’t think would ever stop hurting.

“Why the fuck did you let me bring ‘em all along!? We can’t fit ‘em all in here!”

“Shit, I dunno, what else did you wanna do? Shoot ‘em on sight?”

“That might’ve been less trouble. They’re a handful to take care of; did you want us to give you pointers?”

Eren’s heart lifted at the sight of Hanji casually opening the door of the shack, inspecting the gun in her hand with a careful eye. His eyes scanned the dark clearing for any sight of Levi.

The man yanked Armin close to him again, brandishing his shotgun threateningly. “One false move and the kid’s a fist mist at this range! Who the fuck are you, and what’d you do to the rest of my team in there!?”

Hanji held up her hands. “We’re just a ragtag sports team from a local school district, here for summer camp. The little scamps were missing during bedcheck, and well, I decided to go on a walk to look for them; make sure there wasn’t any teen pregnancy in progress…”

As Hanji went on, the man’s associate was suddenly swept off his feet and dragged off in a flurry of motion, with barely a whisper of sound. The man himself was too on-edge to notice the absence. Eren swallowed hard. If he could just get Armin away from the man, the nightmare would be all over; he would take that fucking shotgun himself and smash it into the man’s disgusting fucking face until he was nothing, nothing at all except for bone and red.

“…and then I noticed that my little pets had gone missing too! That’s not like them, they’re usually very well-behaved, and so when I happened upon this clearing and noticed that they’d eaten your friends, I figured that they probably had a reason. They’re very good judges of character, you know.”

Two very, very well-fed pythons happily slithered out of the shack. The man let out a panicked shriek, and whirled the sights of his shotgun on them; Armin quickly took the opening to stomp on the man’s foot and tear himself from his loosened grip. Levi was on him in an instant, downing the man with a swift blow to the back of his head. He cuffed the man’s hands behind him, and – wait, cuffs? Eren then saw the handful of police creeping from behind the trees. Eren stumbled to his feet, staggered to where Armin lay shaking on the ground, and wrapped himself around him, feeling the apologies come sobbing from his mouth. Two more arms wrapped around them both, soothing.

“It appears Hanji was misleading that man as to the fate of his associates. She seems to have subdued them prior to our arrival; they’re being led from the shack by the police as we speak,” Mikasa said, narrating for herself just as much as Eren and Armin.

“Good,” Eren choked out. “That lets me do the job _myself_ —”

Mikasa tightened her grip, holding him down. “Stay down. Armin needs you.”

He felt Armin’s hand seize his wrist, grasping at the bracelet there. Eren felt his heart sink, and he buried his face in Armin’s hair.

“…I don’t suppose they recognized you, in your current attire.”

Eren glanced up, blinking through his tears. The head policeman was speaking to Levi, and Levi looked more relaxed than Eren had ever seen him. He was even _smiling_ , a little.

“Yeah, well, I look different when I’m not wearing a vinyl catsuit,” he said. “Figures that I’d run into some of the fuckers I knew way back when, now that I’m doing the undercover gig.”

“You made quite an impression in that catsuit, back then. Though I cannot say that I wouldn’t recognize you out of it.”

There was Levi _smiling_ again; sweet fuck was that weird and creepy. Hanji was checking over the other students for injuries, for their emotional state; she knelt by the pile Eren and Mikasa had made over Armin, and put a careful, gentle hand on Eren’s shoulder.

“Eren. How are you feeling? Can I check you and Armin over?”

“Him first,” Eren whispered. He disengaged from his protective curl around Armin just enough for Hanji to card her fingers through his hair, looking for scrapes, bruises. Armin’s eyes met hers, and something seemed to pass between them. Hanji gave a thin smile, looking away.

“Undercover work. Me and Levi both work with the cops on the side on stuff like this. We’d known that these jerks were on the lam, but not in this area, otherwise we never…”

She paused, hands settling on her knees.

“…I can’t tell you how sorry I am that we got you kids tangled up in this.”

“But, it was with their help that we were able to bring these men to justice,” said the head policeman. He bent to offer his hand to Eren for a handshake. “Police Chief Erwin Smith. If you and your teammates hadn’t drawn off those two attackers, Hanji here would have been overwhelmed, and wouldn’t have had the time to restrain their associates. She herself may have been wounded, or even killed, otherwise. You have all of our thanks.”

Eren looked from Erwin’s hand, to Armin, unsure. Krista sprang to her feet, a desperate sort of cheerfulness about her.

“Goooooo team!!” she cried. “Scouts ride again! Say it with me, Bertholt!”

“G-g-g-g-g-g-go t-t-t-t-t-team,” stammered Bertholt. He was soaked through with sweat and tears, and Reiner rubbed at his back, trying to soothe him.

“I swear to god, Jaeger. If you ever, _ever_ pull this shit again, I am ripping out your spine and flying it off the school flagpole,” Jean said.

“If you really want to get down to it, this really isn’t the worst trouble we’ve all been in,” Marco said, reasonably. “Remember when we were washed down the river after the county dam broke? That one was your fault, Jean.”

Jean choked, trying to defend himself. “L-look, I think we were _all_ a little at fault for the failure of the rowing team…”

“…no, it was mostly you.”

“Yeah, well, Ymir—”

“Dude,” Ymir stopped him with a wave of her hand. “If whatever you were gonna accuse me of beats us nearly drowning and then having to fight off bears in the woods for a week, I’d be glad to hear it.”

“It was only two bears!!”

“Why don’t we continue having this argument back at the campsite?” Hanji offered, helping Eren and Armin to their feet. She tsked at the sight of Eren’s swollen ankle. “We’ll get everyone patched up, and then it’s midnight s’mores madness night!”

“That’s my favorite night!!” Sasha shrieked, excitedly, the stress of the last hour already gone from her features.

At her insistence, Eren leaned his weight against Mikasa as they all trudged back to camp. Armin’s hand clutched his in a vice grip, his walk stiff and overly-controlled. Eren rubbed his thumb over his knuckles.

“…Armin.”

“I’m fine,” he said, quickly. “Just. It’s been a long night.”

“…I am so, so sorry, I can’t even—”

“ _Eren_. You couldn’t have known that would happen. Just…” Armin paused, and curled in closer to them as they walked. “Can I sleep in your bed tonight?”

Eren nodded so hard he felt like his head would fall off. “Of course, that’s not even something you have to _ask_ …”

Hanji crept up behind them, and thumped their backs genially. “Come and see me if you two need protection!” she trilled, winking. “No teen pregnancy on my watch!”

Eren had no doubts to Hanji’s sincerity on the subject, but really, all he wanted to do when they got back to camp was to get off his fucking ankle and climb into bed with Armin and just – just hold him, tight. It had been a long night, and he was so, so tired.

Armin’s head came to rest against his arm, and they all walked, watching for the camp’s lights to flicker from between the trees. 


	5. Attack on Harvest Festival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A pointless victory is achieved and Eren and Armin suck at anal.

The harvest festival was the town's biggest event -- food, games, rides, a haunted house around Halloween, and best of all, it was right near a farm where there were animals and you could pet them. Eren pet a goat there once and it was so fucking cool.

(Eren was no longer allowed in the haunted house after an incident a few years back where a zombie got too close to Armin for his tastes. It ended with three black eyes and the discovery that Armin wasn't actually all that scared of zombies, Eren the scientific principles behind them are fundamentally unsound, how could I possibly be scared of a man in a rubber mask oh god sir we are so sorry.)

Today, though, Eren was taking Armin on a whirlwind tour of the festival as part of his birthday gift to him. And, he thought with grim determination as he took aim once more with popgun, he was going to win Armin that giant fucking fluffy bunny from this carnival game if it took him all day.

"Eren," Armin said gently. "Why don't we take a break and go through the corn maze?"

"I am getting the rabbit," Eren grumbled.

"Eren--"

"Rabbits like corn mazes."

Armin slid a gentle arm around his waist, and nuzzled close to press a kiss behind his ear. Eren stiffened and squeezed the trigger in surprise, sending his next shot pingponging through the booth and nailing the owner right between the eyes. Armin looked mortified, but Eren couldn't help but be a little pleased. His aim was getting way better.

"Sir, I am so, so sorry -- " Armin began.

"Just..." One hand clutched to his forehead, the owner stumbled to the giant stuffed bunny, yanking it off the wall and handing it over to Armin. "Here. And keep your little friend on a tighter leash."

Armin clutched the bunny close to him, tucking his reddening face into its yellow fluff. Damn. If shooting people in the face made Armin look that cute, Eren would have to do it more often.

"Let's go to the corn maze," Armin mumbled into his stuffed animal, grabbing at Eren's hand and leading him away from the booth.

They walked through the festival, surrounded by sights and smells and sounds -- fresh cinnamon fried dough, bigass legs of fried turkey, all above the encompassing scent of apples and autumn leaves. A loud gong sounded, marking another successful round of Mikasa versus the Test-Your-Strength machine. Eren watched enviously as another stuffed animal was added to her prize pile, as she twirled the heavy mallet between her hands effortlessly. She was going to dump that pile on Armin at the end of the day for sure for his birthday present, but from the way she was looking around, Eren could tell that wasn't the only reason she was swinging that hammer. A few more sounds of the gong was sure to lure Annie, and then they could spend the rest of the day punching each other in the boob. Or whatever girls did for fun.

As they neared the corn field, a thought came to Eren's mind.

"Are there zombies in there?" Eren asked, suspiciously. Corn zombies. Corn zombies seemed dangerous.

"No," Armin said firmly, tightening his grip on Eren's arm.

"Are you sure? I think I saw them in a movie once."

"That was Children of the Corn, and they were not zombies."

"Are you _sure?_ "

"Eren, I'm very sure, and besides--"

Reiner came crashing through a wall of the corn maze, and gave a triumphant little smile. Bertholt peeked around a corner, face mixed with distress and frustration.

"I told you mazes were easy," Reiner clapped a hand to Bertholt's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "Come on, let's hit the turkey leg stand."

Bertholt trudged after him, silently. Armin peeked through the hole in the maze wall, wincing at the line of destruction Reiner had left in his wake.

"…let's go get some candy apples and sit by the pond," Armin said, slowly.

It sounded like a decent plan to begin with, and turned out to be a fucking great plan, because it began with Armin cuddled up next to him, warm and soft and cozy in his wool coat and oversized sweater, under the shade of a big orange and gold tree. Once they'd finished their apples, it rapidly turned into him smooching Armin under the very same tree. Underneath the taste of caramel apples that lingered in his mouth, he still tasted like Armin, warm and sweet and so fucking wonderful.

"Eren," he sighed as Eren moved to return the earlier favor, kissing behind Armin's ear. "Come home with me tonight?"

Eren made an enthusiastic noise of agreement as his lips moved lower on Armin's neck. That stuffed bunny was a decent enough birthday present, but what he really wanted to do for Armin on his birthday was to lay him down on his bed and bite his way up his thighs, and fasten his mouth to his --

Eren felt Armin's throat bob under his mouth. "Will," he began, and cut off with a shuddering breath. "Would you. Would you f-fuck me?"

Eren's lips froze against Armin's neck. ...god. _God_.

"Yeah," he said hoarsely. He rested his head against Armin's shoulder, trying to steady his heartbeat and will his dick to calm down. "Yeah. You want that?"

"I do." Armin's hand grabbed for his. Eren gripped back, squeezing as if he could will Armin's trembling away. "I've...thought about it for a while."

Eren definitely, definitely had too. He swallowed hard, and pressed his lips once more to Armin's throat, soft.

There was a rustling of leaves, and Armin jumped beneath him. Eren glared up at the intruder. The intruder was Mikasa with a garbage bag stuffed with her carnival winnings, which she deposited at Armin's feet.

"Happy birthday, Armin," she said, unaffected by the scene before her.

"...thank you," Armin said in a tiny voice.

Mikasa turned to Eren, and dug around in her bag briefly. She produced a small box, and handed it to him. He stared at it, confused.

"The hell?"

"Condoms," Mikasa said. "As it seems you'll need them tonight."

Eren stared at her, open-mouthed. Armin made a small, sad noise, like a deflating balloon. Mikasa stared them both down.

"You will wear them, Eren," she said firmly.

Eren sputtered. "It's not like I'm gonna get him pregnant!"

Armin's balloon noise was only getting louder. Mikasa shut her eyes and gave a short, small sigh, which Eren knew was the sign that she thought he'd said something monumentally stupid. But it was true that he couldn't knock Armin up...right? Right? Shit, maybe he should've paid closer attention in Health class.

"Although pregnancy and sexually-transmitted disease are a non-issue,"  Armin explained, soft. "It's...tidier. Regarding c-cleanup."

Eren groaned and stuffed the condom box into his jacket pocket. If Armin wanted tidy, he'd get tidy, but where the fuck did Mikasa even get these? She was never interested in dudes. Girls were way too fucking mysterious for Eren's tastes. Even with Armin's request for later so fresh in his mind, the mood for now was ruined. Eren flopped back down next to Armin, heaving a heavy sigh as he rested his head on his shoulder. Mikasa didn't seem to notice, or maybe care, that Eren was glaring at her.

"Additionally," she said. "The Titans have invaded the festival. They've challenged us to a pie-eating contest."

Eren's eyes went wide, and his blood began to boil. So they thought that they could fucking invade their town's festival, on Armin's birthday, no less, and eat all their fucking pies? He'd show them the true meaning of their strength as a team, both on and off the court--

 

"Eren."

Mikasa had him by the hood of his jacket, and Armin by his wrist. Eren whirled around to demand the meaning of their actions. Mikasa regarded him evenly.

"We already have our champion being prepared. You will come and offer her your support."

\--

The contest's stage was filled with the Titans and their shit-eating fucking grins. The pies sat, waiting -- Eren wanted to storm up there himself and cram them all in his mouth so they wouldn't have to suffer the indignity of sliding down their filthy fucking gullets.

But before he could break from Armin and Mikasa's grip, the faint strains of "Eye of the Tiger" drifted through the cool evening air.

Connie parted the crowd, holding a boombox over his head. Behind him walked their champion, resplendent in the green and whites of the school's colors, their school flag draped about her shoulders. Sasha reached the stage, and Connie slid the flag off of her.

She approached the pies just as the judges blew the whistle.

"Don't look," Mikasa whispered, sliding a hand over Armin and Eren's eyes to block the sight of the carnage. Eren peeked through her fingers. "Just cheer."

Sasha had a mouth, and teeth. That was all Eren's mind could grasp of the display before him. He could hear Krista screaming, cheering hysterically for Sasha; she was splattered with raspberry filling, and had scaled Bertholt to provide a better vantage point. Bertholt wrapped himself around Reiner for protection, and Reiner gave a choked wail and desperately wrapped his arms around him back, offering what protection he could. The arena reeked of baked goods, vomit, and the sharp tang of blood. One by one, the Titans collapsed face-down into the pie plates. One by one, Sasha triumphed, pastry after pastry, shirt smeared with cherry ichor.

The last Titan fell. Sasha polished off her last victim, and held the empty plate up to the cheers of the crowd. Krista shrieked and leapt from Bertholt's head to Ymir's waiting arms. They furiously tongue-wrestled as Connie held Sasha's arm up.

Finally, a victory. But, at what cost? After watching that, could Eren really get it up tonight? He set a tender hand to Armin's cheek, tilting his face up to look at him. Armin's eyes were shining and bright with adrenaline, his lips parted, mouth wet.

...he could. He definitely could.

\--

While he'd imagined this scenario many, many times before on nights where he'd only had the company of his right hand, Eren wasn't sure of where to begin when they arrived back at Armin's place -- specifically, his bedroom. After cake with his grandfather, they made a hasty retreat upstairs while Armin's grandfather returned to his study. Armin locked the bedroom door behind them while Eren's mind raced.

Should he -- should he just pick him up and toss him onto the bed? Was that romantic enough? Shit, he couldn't think straight when he was about five minutes away from fucking Armin's brains out.

Armin tucked his face against Eren's chest, and wrapped his arms around his waist. His breath was warm as he set his lips to Eren's collarbone.

"Thank you for taking me out today," Armin whispered. "And...and for the bunny."

The bunny sat against the wall by the door, watching them. Eren bent to turn it around. He didn't need anyone else's judgment today.

"So, um." Eren snuck his hands around to rest on Armin's back. "Happy birthday. Where do we start?"

Armin took a deep breath, and furrowed his brow in thought. "I...we could go to the bed. Maybe."

That sounded fair. Not much different from their usual routine. But their usual routine involved rubbing on each other, or handjobs, or Eren slobbering all over Armin's cock. The very fact that this was going to end with Eren getting to be inside Armin made Eren's legs go numb.

The bed sounded good, and Eren needed to get there before his numb legs made him collapse on the spot. He sat down heavily, and Armin followed suit, toying with the hem of his sweater. Eren tried to swallow around the lump in his throat. He'd seen Armin naked before. Multiple times. It was always great -- fucking _amazing_ , really -- but that little sliver of skin that was peeping from under Armin's sweater was making him feel like he was fourteen years old again, stammering out that he liked Armin _like that_ , that he wanted to kiss him, and be his boyfriend.

The whimpering sigh that heaved from Eren's lungs when Armin shyly tugged his sweater over his head was fucking embarrassing and completely unavoidable. Armin ran his fingers through his hair, trying to smooth it back down as his eyes darted around the room, falling everywhere but Eren's face.

"Um, I could." Eren stopped, and tried to compose himself. "I could take off my shirt. And pants. I could."

Armin gave a short nod. "That would be very nice."

Eren made a strangled noise of agreement, and stripped to his boxers in a few seconds flat. Armin's eyes finally fell on him, and with a whimper and a few shaky motions of his trembling hands, he stripped down to his boxers as well. Eren held out his arms, and Armin reeled into them almost gratefully. He lowered them both back to lay on the bed, and their hips moved together, almost on instinct.

Eren swore, and moved his hands to stroke down Armin's hipbones. "Yeah," he said hoarsely. "Yeah, just like that..."

Armin moaned his agreement, and bent down to Eren's mouth. Eren tried desperately to rein in his self-control -- it was quite a thing to ask, with Armin's cock rubbing against his, his chest bare and skin soft under his hands, and then he just had to start sucking on Eren's bottom lip like that...fuck, he was going to come before they'd even gotten their clothes fully off. Eren snuck his fingers under the waistband of Armin's boxers, giving them a little snap against Armin's stomach. Armin -- brilliant, beautiful, fucking amazing Armin -- got the hint quickly, and shimmied his boxers down and off. Eren tilted his hips up to assist when Armin moved to give him the same treatment.

His mouth began to water as he took in the sight of Armin's cock; so hard and red, and that slick head was just begging him to taste it. Eren knew enough about psychology to have heard of Pavlov, and to get the obvious comparison between his dick and those dogs slobbering at the sound of a bell, but couldn't bring himself to be insulted.

"So, uh. What's next?" Eren asked, finally dragging his eyes away from Armin's lower half.

Armin's eyes snapped up to his. "We..." Armin trailed off, his eyes drifting back to stare at Eren's arms. "We, um, prepare me. With your fingers. Or mine," he added.

He leaned over Eren to rustle through the drawers of his nightstand, and Eren couldn't help but press a kiss to the top of the golden head that had drifted so temptingly close. Armin tilted his chin up, a smile on his lips, and granted Eren a proper, brief kiss before he leaned back onto his heels. He clutched a small tube in one hand, and held out the other to Eren, almost as if he thought Eren wouldn't offer his own back. Armin thought some weird things sometimes, Eren mused as he gave his hand over.

"So you just, well." Armin cleared his throat and squeezed a generous amount of clear, viscous gel onto Eren's fingers. He capped the tube again, and shifted to settle himself on all fours. Armin glanced over his shoulder to look at Eren, his face dark red and aching with want.

Eren could not imagine a clearer direction, or a more inviting sight. He traced his fingers down the cleft of Armin's ass, trying to will them not to tremble. Eren had wanted to be in him with Armin on his back, so he could look at his face, and kiss him during, but maybe this was more comfortable, maybe they could work up to that, god, _god_ , how was he even thinking about anything else when there was the sight of his fingers sliding into Armin like that.

Armin stiffened, and hid his face in his pillow. That noise he just made didn't sound like he was enjoying it. Eren paused, and tried to wet his mouth to speak with little success.

"No good?" he finally managed to choke out.

Armin grunted and tilted his hips back, making Eren's fingers slide deeper into him. Eren's cock throbbed painfully at the sight, and his other hand drifted down to give a few consoling strokes.

"Keep going," Armin mumbled into his pillow. His hands gripped the sheets, white-knuckled.

Eren swallowed hard, and pressed his fingers in deeper. Fuck. Armin was so, so tight, and so hot inside -- Eren could only imagine how he'd feel around his cock. His other hand moved quicker on his dick, his breath coming short. Armin moved his hips back against Eren's fingers in steady, even thrusts, his hands worrying at the sheets and face determinedly buried in his pillow. Eren wanted to see his expression badly, wanted to see if he was enjoying it, wanted to look in his eyes and kiss him while he pushed inside --

Eren's fingers fucked in deep, and Armin went rigid, his head tilting back with a yelp. This was apparently too hot for Eren's cock to handle anymore, and he came down the back of Armin's thigh without even a hint of warning.

Armin blinked owlishly over his shoulder at the feel of the sudden wetness on his legs, and saw nothing but a shaking, panting, extremely red-faced Eren with a softening cock.

"God...god fucking damn it!" Eren threw a punch to the mattress instead of his own face. Or his own dick.

Armin moved off Eren's fingers and sat up (not without a wince, Eren noticed) to set his hand on Eren's closed fist. "Shh, Eren, it's alright. It's fine, we can do this another night -- "

Eren glared at the bedsheets, tears prickling at the sides of his eyes. "You wanted me to fuck you for your birthday present."

Armin's lips kissed one eye, the other. "I wanted to spend the day with you. Which I got. We can go further once we've practiced more; I could barely take your fingers this time."

Armin's cock was just as soft as his, by this point. Why hadn't he fucking noticed that Armin wasn't enjoying himself? Too busy jerking himself off to tell Armin to stop hiding his face in the pillow, no doubt. Eren opened his mouth to speak, and Armin took the opportunity to steal a kiss. Eren could not begrudge him the theft.

"Next time," Eren said. He cupped Armin's cheek in his hand. "Next time, I want it with you on your back. I want to see your face."

Armin's eyes drifted from his, suddenly shy. Eren tilted his face to make him meet his gaze again.

"I mean it," Eren said firmly. "Especially if I hurt you so bad it made you go limp."

"It wasn't--"

Eren cut him off with another kiss, and moved his hand to stroke back the hair from Armin's face. He drew back, his hand still resting comfortably on the crown of Armin's head.

"Belated birthday present with you on your back. Deal?"

Armin smiled and bumped their foreheads together. "...deal."


	6. Attack on Babies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren and Armin suck at parenting and roller derby, but don't suck at anal anymore.

It was recess time and Eren was going to show Armin a cool ant’s nest he found in a secret part of the playground. He’d wanted to maybe find a butterfly nest because they were prettier, like Armin, but he wasn’t sure if butterflies lived in nests and ants were okay too, Eren reasoned. Maybe butterflies lived in trees, like birds with wings – Eren would have to work on climbing up real high. The last time he tried he fell and got a big bump on his head.

They walked outside to the playground, hand-in-hand. It had been _two whole weeks_ since he and Armin started preschool and now that they were holding hands every day, Eren was pretty sure they were married. The very thought of it made Eren’s tummy do somersaults. Maybe once they’d been married for _three_ weeks…Eren felt his face go hot and red. Maybe at _three_ weeks he could kiss Armin on the cheek. And then they could have eight babies and a house near a lake and a tree full of butterflies.

Eren was interrupted in his reverie and his trek to the underside of the slide by Krista standing in their path. Eren scowled at her. Normally he was alright with Krista because she wasn’t stupid or annoying, but he didn’t seek out her company. Those fluffy lacey dresses of hers and those hairbows marked her as a prime carrier of cooties. Eren had learned about vaccines from his dad and regularly updated his inoculations against the virus by paying Annie a candy bar a month to punch him in the stomach. But Armin had no such protection against the disease. Eren stood in front of him protectively as Krista solemnly handed him a pink piece of construction paper with glitter and stickers all over it.

“Ymir kissed me on the mouth and got me pregnant,” Krista said, her expression grave. “We’re getting married by the slide right now. That’s your wedding invitation and we’re checking them at the door.”

Eren and Armin exchanged scandalized looks. Ymir had a different girlfriend every naptime so it was only a matter of time before she got one of them pregnant. Still, it was a shock to hear.

“Sasha is getting cookies and juice for the reception party.” Krista gazed into the distance, misty-eyed. “I have to go get ready. I think I am too young to be a mother.”

Krista walked in a slow, dolorous line to where a handful of kids were furiously making flower crowns for the wedding party. Armin lowered his chin in thought, and gently tugged on Eren’s hand.

“We should find a present to give to Krista and Ymir for the baby. They don’t have jobs like older mommies and daddies so it’ll be hard for them.”

Armin furrowed his eyebrows, and Eren badly wanted to give kisses to that little crease between them – but what if that got Armin pregnant, too? Eren wanted babies with Armin (lots of them, and all of them with Armin’s blue eyes and blonde hair) but Armin seemed to think they were too little to have them yet. Eren would have to hold off on asking to kiss Armin for a while, now. His heart sank. Maybe once they’d been married for four weeks…?

Armin got some paper from inside and wrote a note that he would teach the baby about reading and numbers. Eren found a cool rock and even washed it off. Once the crowds had gathered around the slide, Connie stepped forward with a musical keyboard he’d smuggled out of the classroom. He clicked the purple button and the Mexican song about cockroaches started plinking out. Bertholt walked up the aisle, hunched over like usual, and delicately placed one flower petal at a time from his basket onto the ground. When he’d reached the end of the aisle, his basket was still half-full, and he looked ready to cry until Reiner dumped the basket out for him and let him stand next to him behind the altar. Mikasa sat on Ymir to keep her from running away – they’d _all_ keep Ymir from running away from this, Eren thought with determination. Ymir was going to take responsibility for kissing Krista on the mouth so carelessly.

The keyboard music suddenly changed to the red button, and “The Itsy-Bitsy Spider” played as Krista walked up the aisle. She held a bouquet of dandelions – the yellow ones and the fluffy white dead ones – and a blanket draped on her head. Sasha walked behind her to keep the blanket from dragging on the ground, and kept wiping her nose on it and sniffling with emotion. Eren felt his own eyes start prickling, and bit his lip. Maybe someday it’d be Armin in that fluffy lacey dress with a bouquet of flowers and a blanket on his head, Eren thought, gripping Armin’s hand tighter. But Mikasa would never need to sit on Eren to keep him in place, no. Eren would run down the aisle to meet him, and maybe…maybe kiss him on the mouth.

“We are gathered here today to watch as these dearly beloveds get married,” Reiner’s voice boomed from the altar. The altar was an upturned cardboard box and Reiner clutched a book about dinosaurs to his chest as he waved his other hand in weird motions. “Ymir do you say ‘I do’?”

Ymir’s eyes were locked on Krista. A breeze came and made some of the fluffy white dandelions from Krista’s bouquet lose their fluff – it floated off, and Armin had a sneezing fit. Eren quickly produced a crumpled mess of tissues from his pocket to assist. The breeze died down, and Krista’s head blanket settled around her feet again.

“…yeah,” Ymir said quietly, after a long while. Her face was red, and she crawled out from under Mikasa to rise to her feet and awkwardly take Krista’s hand. “Y-yeah, I do.”

Reiner smiled, proudly, and turned to Krista. “Krista do you say--”

“I DO,” Krista shrieked, the sound reverberating off the playground equipment. She hurled her bouquet at Bertholt’s head, and lunged at Ymir to press smacking kisses all over her face. Eren was scandalized once more – they were _both_ gonna get pregnant at this rate! Bertholt was crying and shaking and clutching Krista’s discarded bouquet to his chest as he fell to his knees. That was pretty much what happened every day in class so it wasn’t a huge shock. Jean was crying in the crowd but that was because he was a big stupid baby. Annie scowled from her distant watching place on the swingset, but Eren thought he could see her wiping away tears. It was all so beautiful.

Eren turned to Armin, and wiped away the tears on his own cheeks before opening his mouth to talk.

“Armin, I think that someday we should--”

And then Armin, just like that, leaned up and kissed his nose. Eren thought his heart would leap out of his chest and blast off to Mars.

“I do,” Armin said, softly.

\--

Eren groggily opened his eyes. Even a thousand flashbacks to their younger days wouldn’t be able to purge the memory of his failure from last night. He curled himself tighter around Armin and groaned. Ruin Armin’s birthday present by hurting his ass and coming all over his thighs before you even got close to putting it in, that’s a _great_ way to end the day…

Armin stirred in his arms, all warmth and soft hair and softer noises. Eren pressed his lips to the side of his neck, breathing him in. They’d need to wake up for school in just a bit, but maybe there was enough time for Eren to make last night up to him…Eren slid his hand down Armin’s back, tracing the rail of his spine, down, down to cup his ass. His lips pressed to Armin’s neck more firmly, with a tiny scrape of teeth.

“Eren…” Armin breathed. Whatever he was about to say was garbled into a gasp as Eren’s hand slipped around to the front to rub him through his boxers. He clapped his hand over his mouth and swallowed hard. “We…school’s soon…”

“Bet I can make you go off before the alarm does,” Eren murmured against his skin.

Armin’s hips pressed against his hand, and his hands came to smooth down Eren’s chest. “I trust you’re the expert on that, huh…” His mouth quirked at the edge with a teasing little smile.

Eren felt his face go red, and he decided to kiss that smirk off Armin’s face. After a few long, wonderful moments of drinking in his warmth and tasting his soft mouth, Eren drew back to catch his breath, to stare down at the fucking gorgeous panting boy underneath him, to catch Mikasa staring at them through the window out of the corner of his eye—

That last part was what caused Eren to freeze and shriek with terror and rage. Armin couldn’t quite control his own scream, either, but managed enough presence of mind to yell back to his grandfather’s concerned shout that no, no, everything’s fine, Mikasa’s just come to pick us up. Mikasa seemed completely unperturbed by the noise or the fact that she’d just fucking ruined _another_ of Eren and Armin’s makeout (soon to be handjob) sessions, and let herself in through the (we are on the _third floor of the fucking house_ ) window.

“Good morning,” she said coolly. “I trust your anal intercourse last night was done with protection?”

Eren’s mouth gaped open like a fish. Armin buried his face in his hands. Mikasa’s eyes narrowed.

“ _Eren_ ,” she said, more firmly. She stepped forward to the bedside. She said the next words slowly, as if speaking to a child. “Did you wear a condom on your penis while you were penetrating Armin.”

“Get OUT!” screamed Eren. “Fucking shit, Mikasa, why--”

Mikasa seized him by the hair and stared him directly in the eyes. “Homosexual monogamous penetrative sex still carries the risk of urinary tract infections. Answer the question I posed to you.”

Eren’s face was burning red with humiliation and fury, and he couldn’t find where his voice had disappeared to. Armin was the one to finally speak up.

“We…we didn’t wind up…things ended before that…”

The silence that followed was loud, so loud. Eren could see the side of Mikasa’s mouth twitching. He wished he could strangle her sometimes. She usually just sat on him whenever he tried.

“…I see,” she said, finally. She released her hold on Eren’s hair, and fished two more boxes of condoms out of her backpack. “Whenever penetrative sex happens, then, you will need more of these.”

Eren went for it. Mikasa sat on him until Armin finished getting dressed and ready for the walk to school.

\--

It was time for the yearly sex ed class, and that meant a thoroughly embarrassing six weeks spent with Coach Hanji and Levi as the teachers.

“Now, I know everyone loves the trivia challenge,” Hanji said, hauling out a large ominous box. “But since you’re all probably pretty stocked up now on those prize packs, I figure we’d better step up the game!”

She pried open the box to reveal dozens of motionless babies. She dumped them on the table in front of her and threw the empty box across the room with a flourish.

“Meet your children! You’ll be pairing off and taking care of them for the next month, then writing a brief presentation about the experience.”

“Hopefully it’ll encourage you to not breed,” Levi mumbled, under his breath. He then cursed loudly as Bean (with a baby bonnet atop his head for the occasion) attempted to snuggle up to his leg.

Hanji grabbed a baby by the leg and fiddled with controls at the back of its neck until it sprang alive with a piercing shriek that rattled the windows. Hanji grinned and brandished the baby at the class.

“This is the miracle of life! Programmed them myself, so don’t try messing with them to make them stay quiet! They’re messy as all heck when they blow up! Pair off so I can pass them out.”

Pairing off went as expected: Eren seized Armin’s hand, and Krista was sitting atop Ymir’s desk in an instant, staring at her with intense determination. Reiner assured Bertholt that they’d be excellent parents together, and Jean griped about the assignment to Marco’s patient and long-suffering ear. Connie and Sasha had a brief, serious discussion on whether the robot babies were waterproofed, and Annie and Mikasa stared at each other from across the room, gazes piercing and unknowable.

“Now, I don’t have too many extras since—hey! Naughty!” Hanji swatted at Sawney as the snake attempted to swallow down one of the babies. “Well, you can see that the little guys have developed a taste for them. So don’t mess them up or else no prize packs for you at the end!”

Hanji briefed them on how to care for the robot babies – name them, press the button in their mouth to feed them on schedule, change diapers regularly, hold them while they are crying to get them to stop. The couples would be expected to have the baby supervised by one of them at all times, and that meant at team practice as well – this month they were trying the roller derby route. Anyone whose babies were alive and well at the month’s end – and had turned in their presentation on the subject – would get a Super Prize Pack, the contents of which Hanji would not divulge.

The bell rang, finally, and everyone was poised to flee with their new android responsibilities.

“Feel free to come to me or Coach Levi with any questions, and good luck to all of you proud parents!” Hanji trilled as they all trailed out the door.

Eren took in the sight of Armin: baby cradled in one arm, his brow furrowed in thought.

“What’re you thinking for a name?”

Armin tilted his head to the side. “…maybe Madeline? Those were such cute little books…”

Suddenly, there was screaming, and Marco’s voice yelling at Jean to take off his backpack, that it was on fire. Cursing all the while, Jean flung it from his shoulders and threw it to the ground to stomp it out with a series of sickening crunches. They stared at the burning wreckage, and Jean swallowed hard.

“I uh…put the baby in there to carry it. My water bottle must’ve dumped out and short-circuited it.”

Jean and Marco’s baby did not survive the flames or the first day of its existence, and they had to write their presentation on the fleetingness of life. (Hanji gave them a conciliatory prize pack since Jean gave her some pictures of the wreckage that even Eren admitted were pretty sick.)

\--

Sasha and Connie’s baby went next.

“My tamagotchis always went this way too,” Sasha said, mournfully.

She and Connie had to write their presentation on why overfeeding can lead to life-threatening health problems, and also why you shouldn’t try to feed a robot tacos. The part of the cafeteria where it exploded smelled like burned cilantro and tomatoes for weeks. Eren was babysitting Madeline while Armin was in the library (he didn’t like it when the crying started in there), and Eren got kind of hungry.

\--

“I think little Esmeralda is getting bigger by the day,” Reiner cooed, rocking the baby in his arms. “Don’t you think, father?”

Bertholt sat stony-faced, not touching his soda. “She’s not real, Reiner.”

Reiner fixed him with a hard look and covered Esmeralda’s ears. “Just because she’s _adopted_ doesn’t mean she’s not _ours_. I think we should look into counseling if that’s how you really feel about it.”

Bertholt took a giant breath, and let it out very, very slowly. Eren looked down at Madeline, concerned. He hoped the robots didn’t grow on their own. Hanji only gave them one set of clothes each.

\--

Ymir had to do her presentation on her own because Krista wouldn’t talk to her afterwards. Her presentation was called “Why Are Children Our Future If They Can’t Survive Being Stranded Up A Tree For A Few Days?”

Oddly, Annie and Mikasa’s baby had survived the same incident. Annie mumbled something under her breath about “survival of the fittest”, and Eren didn’t notice that Madeline had started screaming until a few minutes in because Armin was wearing a tight turtleneck that day. Joy of joys, Armin said yes when Eren invited him to his house that night. Maybe Armin would let Eren give him a reason to wear that turtleneck.

\--

“Wish you’d gone in for roller derby,” Eren murmured in Armin’s ear between sucking red, red kisses to his neck. “…look cute as fuck in those spandex shorts…”

Armin only barely kept his voice down as Eren’s hand slid into his pants. His turtleneck had been flung somewhere across the room, and in a perfect world, Armin would never wear a shirt again. Or pants, for that matter, as Eren unzipped them and shoved them down Armin’s hips just enough to give him free access to his dick.

It wasn’t Mikasa at the window this time, but Madeline with the cockblock. Her loud, repetitive shrieks were powerful; powerful enough to make Eren go soft, even with Armin, shivering and disheveled underneath him, and powerful enough to make Armin go soft even with his cock stuffed into Eren’s mouth. That kind of power was evil, and needed to be purged from the world. Of this much, Eren was certain. Eren pulled off Armin’s cock with a slurp and groaned as he thudded his head face-down into the bed.

“Your turn?” Eren grumbled.

“My turn,” Armin said with a sigh, smoothing down Eren’s hair before marching over to where the baby was perched. As he shimmed his pants back onto his hips, leaving them unfastened as he gingerly touched the marks on his neck and collarbone – well, Eren could at least appreciate the view for a bit, so the evening at least wasn’t a complete waste.

\--

“Esmeralda! Did you just say your first word!? Was your first word ‘mama’?!” Reiner cooed excitedly at the robot. The robot was in a brand new frilly onesie, and lay in a large and frighteningly expensive baby carriage. “Was that your first word? ‘Mama’!?”

Bertholt had dead eyes that seemed to stare at nothing. Eren thought back to the night before with Armin, and wondered when the last time was that they were able to finish having sex. He cursed babies, cursed robots, and cursed the world. One more week, and it would all be over.

\--

They were doing pretty well against the Titans in roller derby – Eren always excelled in sports where violent contact between opposing teams wasn’t punished. However, the game was interrupted when Mikasa and Annie’s robot baby invaded the ring and began spinkicking opponents. They had to all take a lengthy time-out while the refs and coaches debated the legality of the addition. It eventually came down to the fact that, somehow, someone had entered the baby as an official member of the Scouts (“Her name is Bonestorm Hurricane Ackerman-Leonhart,” Annie explained coolly), and in the same loophole that had once allowed Mikasa’s dog to be a member of the soccer team (“Most other countries call it ‘football’,” Mikasa had said, explaining nothing), the rules said nothing strictly against allowing robots in the rink.

In the end, though, they’d all taken too long arguing, and the game had to be cancelled when their rental time on the rink expired and they had to vacate for some six-year-old’s birthday party.

By this point, Eren had had it up to here with babies ruining his life.

\--

Finally, finally, it was the last day of the whole sorry experiment. Armin had drafted their presentation to be about the importance of time management in parenting, and Eren had helped by bringing him sodas, biting his ears, and sulkily rocking Madeline back and forth when thwarted by her shrieking.

As they approached the front doors of the school, their attention was drawn to the roof, where the tiny figures of Bertholt and Reiner could be just barely seen. They were – screaming, screaming at each other, and that was bizarre enough, because they never fought, and for Bertholt to raise his voice like that…

It happened so quick, then. Reiner said something, and Bertholt seemed to snap. He seized the robot baby that Reiner was clutching to his chest, and, in one smooth motion, hurled it over the side of the building to meet its grisly death against the pavement. Reiner collapsed to his knees, heavily, and clutched at the chainlink fence that prevented him from following. Bertholt bent to whisper something in Reiner’s ear, and dragged him to his feet by his arm.

Armin gingerly sidestepped the smoldering robot gore at his feet, and tugged at Eren’s sleeve. “Let’s…go inside.”

Their own presentation went smoothly; almost smoothly enough that Eren hesitated when prompted to surrender the robot back to Hanji. Then it started shrieking again and Eren shoved it into her arms and collapsed into his desk with a sigh of relief.

Bertholt and Reiner’s presentation was about the importance of maintaining perspective when given an assignment. For once in his life, it was Bertholt – nervous, terrified of public speaking Bertholt – who calmly and evenly delivered the lecture while Reiner sat curled into a numb, dumb ball at his feet.

Annie and Mikasa’s presentation was about Darwinism and child development. It sounded pretty interesting – Armin and Coach Hanji seemed to be listening pretty raptly, anyway. There seemed to be something missing, though, something Eren couldn’t quite put his finger on…

“That was a wonderful presentation, ladies, but uh,” Hanji peered over her glasses, squinting. “…where’s little Bonestorm?”

“Bonestorm is currently competing in the world championship tour of Brazilian kick-boxing,” Annie said. “Don’t wish her luck. She doesn’t need you.”

Hanji nodded, taking the information in. “I see. Well, your presentation was spectacular, but I’m afraid you can’t qualify for the Super Prize Pack unless you turn in the baby at the end. No hard feelings?”

Annie gazed at Hanji, unreadable, and slowly walked back to her desk, never breaking eye contact. Mikasa accepted her consolation prize from Hanji – she picked the condom prize pack over the dental dam and candy ones, and marched over to Eren to forcibly stuff it into the pocket of his jacket.

“I don’t – I said I don’t need it!” snapped Eren, trying to swat Mikasa away unsuccessfully. “Me and Armin won and we’ll have all the crap we ever--”

“Congratulations, parenting champions!” Hanji crowed, setting balloon crowns onto Eren and Armin’s heads. Eren touched his, gingerly, and looked at Armin’s. They were made of condoms, weren’t they? They were made of condoms. “Let it be known that if you two ever want to adopt a robot baby, you would rock its socks off! Bring in the Super Prize Pack, Levi!”

Levi carried in a condom balloon boat stuffed full of condoms, condoms, lube, condoms, and candy, shoved it at Armin’s desk, slapped at Hanji’s hands as she attempted to coronate him with another balloon crown, and stormed back into the back room to do whatever it was he did all class day. Probably masturbate to pictures of vacuum cleaners or chat with that weird cop boyfriend of his. Hanji let out another victory whoop just as the bell rang.

“Have fun and stay safe, kids! Just give me a holler if you ever run out of stuff to wrap yourselves with!”

Free. Free. Eren and Armin were free of robot babies and maybe Mikasa climbing in their window for a week or two. Eren whirled around to face Armin. Armin stood very, very close to him, clutching the condom treasure boat tightly to his chest. Eren swallowed hard.

“Armin,” he said quietly. “…you free toni--”

“Yes,” Armin said, quickly. “My grandfather is out at a lecture.”

He clutched the condom ship to his chest even tighter. Come hell or high water, Eren was going to make sure there was nothing left of that ship by the end of the night.

They made it through the walk home without losing control – this was quite a feat, in Eren’s opinion. They made it through the front door of Armin’s house without losing control – this was nothing short of heroic. They made it up to Armin’s room and managed to lock the door before they finally grabbed at each other – this was just human nature, as far as Eren was concerned, just human nature when he pinned Armin against the door and grabbed a fistful of blonde hair to yank his head to the side, just human nature when his cock throbbed between his thighs at the sounds that shivered from Armin’s throat when Eren’s mouth sucked at the join of neck and shoulder.

Armin’s hands smoothed over his shoulders, squeezed at his biceps.

“Bed,” Armin pleaded. “Please…”

It was a reasonable request, but Eren couldn’t bring himself to stop pinning Armin against a wall just yet. He scraped his teeth against Armin’s skin lightly, and soothed with a long pass of his tongue. Armin’s hands came to rest on Eren’s chest, kneading like a cat. He dropped his head to murmur into Eren’s ear.

“We can work up to you fucking me against a wall, but right now, I want you in that bed.”

The words sent a deep, wracking shiver through Eren’s body, punctuated by the scrape of Armin’s nails up the nape of his neck and into his hair, yanking his head away from Armin’s shoulder and up to his lips for a too-brief kiss – more teeth than tongues, and ending with a long, lingering bite to Eren’s lower lip. Armin marched him backwards like that to the bed, and pushed him down to climb on top of him. Armin tucked a lock of blonde hair behind his hair, and smiled, a soft, soft shy smile – how could he still look so fucking _sweet_ after saying things like that?

Armin teased the hem of Eren’s shirt up, pressed his hand to his stomach, bit his lip when Eren’s muscles twitched and jumped under his touch. Groaning with impatience, Eren grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked off it over his head. Armin sucked a breath in, releasing it on a low chuckle.

“Eager,” he whispered. His fingers brushed over Eren’s nipples, the touch feather-light and pure torture.

“Fucking yes,” Eren moaned back. “Been so long…want to, want to fuck you so bad…”

Armin’s touch moved lower to rub at Eren’s cock through his pants, as if approving the statement. He leaned down to breathe hot and wet against Eren’s ear.

“I’ve wanted it for a long time,” Armin sighed. His hand grew heavier, more insistent on Eren’s cock, and he pressed a kiss behind his ear. “After the last time, I…I practiced, on my own…”

Eren’s eyes flew open, his breath hissing out on a stream of curses. His hand tangled into Armin’s hair, the other dipping into Armin’s pants to knead at his ass.

“Do you want me to keep going? Keep talking?” Armin asked, almost hesitant. Fucking hell, why was he hesitant, couldn’t he see what he was doing to Eren?

“Please, _please_ , Armin, god,” Eren begged.

Armin began to move down Eren’s jawline as he spoke.

“…wanted you in me. When you put your fingers in me, god, it hurt; knew I couldn’t take all of you then. And I want all of you, want all of _this_ in me, right down to the root…” Armin slid his hand down Eren’s pants, curled his fist around Eren’s cock. “So every night since then, I’ve been practicing with my fingers. Thinking of you. Feels so good now, feels so amazing…”

Eren choked out a sob, tears prickling at the sides of his eyes. His hips fucked into Armin’s fist helplessly; the image of Armin touching himself like that, thinking of _Eren_ while he did it, made him twitch and throb so hard that he thought he’d come in his hand and ruin it _again_. He fumbled at the closure of Armin’s pants with shaking hands – Armin helped him shove them down and kicked them off his legs, and took the opportunity to shed his shirt as well. He settled back atop Eren, smiling down at him, smiling down at him as if Eren was as gorgeous as Armin was. Eren smoothed his hands up Armin’s inner thighs, feeling the firm muscle underneath the soft skin.

He could live forever, like this; could live forever with the softness of his skin under his hands and the sweetness of his mouth on his. Could live forever travelling the world with him, or even dealing with a screaming robot baby. Could live forever as long as it was with Armin, Armin’s skin and mouth and hands, Armin tugging his pants undone and down his legs, Armin lowering himself down and tangling their legs together and tucking his face underneath Eren’s chin to muffle his gasp as their cocks rubbed together, hot and thick.

Armin drew back, too soon, and Eren whined at the loss.

“Just a second,” he said, fumbling around at the base of his bed. He returned with a bottle and condom packet. He handed the condom to Eren, delicately, but held the bottle in his own hand.

“I could…” Armin’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, and popped the bottle open to wet his own fingers. Eren barely held back another whine. “I could. Prepare myself. At least for now.”

Eren wasn’t sure if he could keep himself from coming if Armin was going to finger himself right in front of him, but holy fuck, was he willing to try. Armin settled down on the pillow next to Eren, on his back, and swallowed thickly as he spread his legs. His slick fingers drifted between his thighs and up and _in_ , and Armin’s eyes fluttered shut, his breathing quick and shaky as his fingers moved. Eren seized Armin’s free hand with both of his own to prevent them from grabbing at his cock. His teeth worried at Armin’s knuckles as he watched Armin’s fingers work, trying to take note how fast, how deep Armin liked it, but his focus was fading fast with every aching throb of his cock.

Armin gave another shaking sigh as he removed his fingers, and guided Eren to settle between his legs. Eren had just enough presence of mind left to not rip the condom in two when he tried to open it, but was deeply thankful for Armin’s guiding hands as he rolled it down over his dick. Armin settled back against the pillow and rested his leg on Eren’s shoulder – Eren turned to rest his burning cheek against the cool skin, pressing a grateful kiss against his ankle. Cock in hand, he guided himself into place, and slowly, slowly pushed inside.

Many times before, Eren had tried to imagine how it would be with the substitute of his hand, but it was nothing, less than nothing compared to the real thing. Armin was tight and hot and his fingers dug into Eren’s hips as if he wanted Eren’s cock just as bad as Eren wanted him. He made soft, eager little noises – _oh, oh_ , _Eren, oh_ – with every thrust of Eren’s hips; almost inaudible over the slick sounds of Eren’s cock working in and out of him. His hips began to move with Eren, guiding the pace, guiding him deeper and harder into him; one hand released Eren’s hip to wrap around his own cock, thumbing at the glistening red tip and letting his head fall back to expose the long line of his neck. Eren pitched forward with a choked sob, one hand fisting into the sheets, the other at Armin’s hip, and set his mouth to the offered expanse of skin, kissing up and into Armin’s mouth, swallowing those soft little _ohs_ until they grew frantic, until his whole body shuddered and stiffened and relaxed, warm and limp, Eren’s hold. Eren couldn’t hold out for a second longer after seeing something like that.

He came to gradually, first registering the feel of Armin’s fingers stroking through his hair. He mumbled low, and nipped at Armin’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” Armin said. “Not using the hand I fingered myself with.”

Eren choked out a hoarse laugh.

“I just…I just stuck my dick in your ass, you can touch me however you want…”

He felt Armin’s lips against his forehead, and he sighed at the warm puff of air against his face.

“Shower?”

Grumbling, Eren tucked his face more firmly against Armin’s shoulder.

“Tired. Comfortable.”

Armin grunted. “Well, you can smell and be sticky for a while longer then, but pull out; you’re heavy.”

Shifting back with a groan, Eren pulled out and peeled off the condom; Armin deposited it in a tissue and into the bedside garbage can. Eren’s head hit the pillow beside Armin, and dragged him into his arms, tucking Armin’s head under his chin as if to make a statement. Armin seemed to acquiesce to whatever the statement was, and tucked himself more comfortably against Eren’s chest.

Eren’s phone rang. He ignored it. Armin’s phone rang. Armin made motions as if he was trying to move to answer it, but was held fast by Eren until he settled back down. They were granted a few seconds of silence before both phones started ringing at once. Eren furiously dragged his backpack over to the bedside to dig through it, knowing exactly who to expect.

“What is it,” he answered, through gritted teeth.

Mikasa remained stonily silent on the other line.

“ _Yes we fucking fucked and I used a fucking condom goodbye!_ ”

Eren hurled the phone across the room. Luckily there was no crash, leading to the assumption that it landed somewhere soft – Eren lost more phones that way. Armin, red-faced and laughing helplessly, wrapped himself around Eren until he felt his muscles relax, one by one, and felt his breathing lull low and slow into sleep.


	7. Attack on Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren Jaeger is extremely serious about the Christmas spirit.

It was the last class before Winter Break, and Eren was torn. On one hand, Santa was coming, and Eren was pretty sure that his letter was convincing enough that Santa would bring Eren a baby Yoshi egg for him to hatch and raise. On the other hand, it meant no preschool for a whole week. That meant…that meant no Armin sitting next to him during morning singalong, no Armin to share his cookies and juice with at snacktime. No Armin for him to cuddle against during naptime, to tell him stories before they went to sleep. For a _week_. It was enough to make Eren’s tiny heart shatter like the frosty icicles outside, enough to make him only mumble out the words to the Christmas carols they sang as the class sat together on the reading rug. His hand clutched at Armin’s, trying to savor the last precious moments of togetherness they had before the grim specter of Christmas present snatched Armin away from him.

“Do you know how we celebrate Christmas in Japan?” Mrs. Ackerman asked the class.

There was a chorus of “no”s from the class, except Mikasa who had her hand up. Eren thought that wasn’t fair because her mommy was the teacher. She had secret insider knowledge into the workings of the mysterious world of school. Potentially more.

Mrs. Ackerman smiled and tapped Mikasa’s hand for her to speak.

“Why don’t you tell everyone how we celebrate Christmas at home, Mikasa?”

Mikasa jabbed her finger at a covered box on a nearby table, next to where they all sat on the reading rug. “There is a cake in that box.”

An excited chatter rose from the class, and Mrs. Ackerman seized Sasha before she could launch her assault on the rumored cake box. Mrs. Ackerman hushed the class back down and sat a squirming Sasha on her lap.

“Mikasa is very right that we have cake on Christmas in Japan,” Mrs. Ackerman said. She looked like she was trying to ignore Sasha drooling on her arm. “On Christmas Eve, we share cake with the people that we love--”

A sudden jolt seemed to pass through Mikasa, and she stared with beady eyes at Eren and Armin where they sat criss-cross-applesauced next to her on the rug. Eren shifted uncomfortably and held Armin’s hand tighter. Armin stuck his hand up, fingers wriggling eagerly.

“Is Christmas a more sec…sec-u-lar holiday in Japan?” he asked as he was called on.

Watching Mrs. Ackerman try to keep Sasha on her lap was like watching someone play with one of those water snake toys.

“Why, that’s – that’s a very grownup word, Armin! Yes, people of all religions celebrate Christmas there, just like they do—they do here—who wants to be my helpers for passing out the cake?”

Mikasa stuck her hand in the air and got to her feet, marching over to the cake without Mrs. Ackerman even tapping her to say it was okay to uncriss-cross. Before Eren could be properly shocked at her blatant disregard of reading rug rules, she flung the top of the cake box off and grabbed two handfuls. Mrs. Ackerman gave a despairing cry of Mikasa’s name as she marched back to where Eren and Armin sat, and shoved the cake against their mouths. Eren made an indignant squawk of rage, which only allowed the cake to progress further into his mouth and nose.  

“Mikasa, what are you _doing?_ ” cried Mrs. Ackerman, setting Sasha down. The rest of the cake was now forfeit.

“Christmas traditions,” Mikasa mumbled.

It only took a few moments for Mrs. Ackerman to regain control of the classroom’s anarchy, and, even drowning in sorrow and with cake up his nose, Eren was very impressed with her bravery in separating Sasha from the tattered remains of the cake. Sasha gurgled unsteadily, half-chewed cake oozing from her mouth – and yet she struggled still, struggled weakly to be reunited with her loved, beloved. Mrs. Ackerman scolded Mikasa in the language that she sometimes used with her, and set down Sasha, and pointed to Eren and Armin. Sasha collapsed at Mikasa’s feet in a heap, and Mikasa wordlessly dragged her over by the ponytail. She took Armin by his free hand, and, with Eren secured on Armin’s other arm, marched them over to the sinks.

While Mikasa set to work with washcloths and soap, Armin tugged at Eren’s sleeve. He looked down at his toes shyly as he spoke, and Eren couldn’t help but have his eyes drawn to them as well. Armin kept scrunching them up, crossing one reindeer-socked foot over the other.

“...would you want to come visit me and my grandpa on Christmas?” asked Armin, softly. “Mikasa, you can come whenever you’re done with cake on Christmas Eve, but Eren, you can come whenever your mommy and daddy say you can…”

Eren was pulled, pulled from the fathomless leagues of his sorrow by a candy-cane colored hook, with a little jingle bell on the end and the line was made of tinsel and – and – Eren sneezed up a chunk of cake before he let out a sob and flung his arms around Armin in a tight hug. Christmas…Christmas was saved. If Santa used his secret snow magic on this wish instead of a Yoshi egg, Eren was fine with that, Eren was better than fine. Eren would leave out a whole thing of Oreos and all the ice cream in the freezer in thanks. Mikasa was taking this joyous news without as much excitement as Eren would deem suitable. She rubbed at Armin’s cheek with a damp washcloth as she spoke.

“I would like that. Is it alright with your grandpa?”

Armin nodded. “I—I asked him and he said it was okay. He said my parents would be calling me on Christmas morning to talk to me, and…there’s no one else for us to visit, so…”

Eren held onto Armin tighter, tucking his head against the curve of his neck. He…he hoped his wish to see Armin on Christmas hadn’t messed with any wishes of Armin’s for his parents to visit him. His reverence for Santa’s secret snow magic was paramount, and Eren thought that he would be able to solve any wish conflicts like that with ease, or at least more magic. Armin’s arms came around him, and he rested his cheek against Eren’s hair.

“Thank you. This will be the first Christmas where my grandpa and I have someone to celebrate with. It’s…it’s going to be the best present ever…”

“Mikasa! Wash Sasha too!” Mrs. Ackerman called.

Mikasa glanced at the marginally-clean washcloth in her hand, and thoughtfully dropped it on Sasha’s head. Sasha laid gurgling on the carpet, oozing red and green saliva from her mouth, and probably dreaming of eating all the dancing sugarplums. In that moment, Eren felt a bit like a dancing sugarplum, himself.

\--

_Dear mother,_

_It feels an age since we first dug these trenches. Mikasa has been awarded honors for capturing an enemy stronghold, but neither she nor we could have done it without Armin’s brilliant mind. The gunfire has been quiet lately; mayhap we will push the enemy back far enough so we’ll be back for the New Year._

_Ever yearning for home,_

_Pvt. Eren Jaeger_

“It’s been like three hours, can we just go back out to the pizza?” Jean moaned.

Shocked out of his dreams of distant peaceful days, Eren’s blood boiled as he sealed up his letter home. He always knew Jean had no sense of honor, but he didn’t know it went this far. They’d all pitched in as a team to treat Coach Levi to laser tag for his birthday, and of course the Titans decided to try and crash the party. They had marched off to war, dug their trenches, and now Jean just wanted to throw in the towel so they could go eat pizza? Deplorable. Disgraceful. Dis-fucking-gusting. Momentarily forgetting his urgent need for a messenger pigeon to send off his missive to the homeland, he marched over to Jean to give him a piece of his mind.

“Down!”

Jean kicked at Eren’s feet, knocking him over just in time to miss meeting his end by a barrage of laser fire. As Krista scurried over to check his wounds, Eren gave a begrudging nod of thanks. He wouldn’t forget that pizza comment, nor would he forget the keen eye that saved his life. Levi dropped back into the trenches from above, heaving a heavy sigh.

“Listen up.”

The gathered soldiers stood at attention, saluting their respect to their commanding officer’s bravery in venturing into enemy territory. Levi glowered at them tiredly.

“Cut that bullshit out. I just tried negotiating with that fucking coach of theirs to see if they’re interested in paying their share of the damages to this place, and needless to say, that creepy little shit tried giving me the line that we provoked them into this standoff.”

A filthy lie, and didn’t everyone know it. The Titans had barged in and knocked over the present they’d all saved up to buy Coach Levi; a shiny green vacuum with a built-in steamer. They’d…they’d never seen Coach Levi look like that, never heard him make that noise. They hoped they never would again.

“Fucking Christ, I am not paying for three hours of this arena, plus the damages…” Coach Levi balled his hands into fists, and his voice shook. “…and what they did to Mistilteinn, on top of that…”

Suddenly, there was hope that sprung from the dry and battle-worn earth. More specifically, it was Coach Hanji kicking in the arena door, decked head to toe in rounds and rounds of paintball ammo. She crunched a candy cane between her teeth, and cocked her gun.

“Know what the difference between paintball and laser tag is, kids?”

Levi blanched visibly. Hanji took careful aim at the heart of Titan territory.

“Paintballs hurt a lot more! Merry Christmas, you filthy animals!”

\--

In the end, they negotiated a 75-25 split of the damages to the laser arena. On an intellectual level, Eren knew that they probably wouldn’t have had to pay anything if Hanji hadn’t paintballed the place into next week, but the sight was well worth that twenty-five percent.

“I wouldn’t mention that to the coaches,” Armin said as Eren voiced the sentiment. “It didn’t come out of your pocket.”

Hanji shushed them. She was recording a video of Levi sleeping on her phone. Despite being covered in paint from Hanji’s victory hug, Levi appeared to be sleeping soundly, a small smile on his face as he cuddled with the vacuum’s hose attachment.

“He’s dreaming about his new toy,” she explained in a low whisper. “Look.”

Levi’s leg kicked, just slightly, and his breath left his mouth in a contented sigh. Hanji smiled at them fondly.

“Great gift choice, and great job on the emergency surgery, Armin. Missy Tein will be back on her wheels in no time, thanks to you.”

Armin hid his smile in the collar of his jacket, and Eren gave a proud kiss to the pom-pom atop his hat. He was the proud boyfriend of a peerless laser tag strategist and vacuum cleaner surgeon, and he couldn’t be happier. They were all just waiting at school for their parents to pick them up, now, and once his mom got there with the car, he was ready and raring to sweep Armin off his feet and up to his bedroom where he’d planted mistletoe like, everywhere. Mikasa was coming home with them too but maybe he could just ask her to chill on the stairs for a while until they were done with the mistletoe. And Armin’s pom-pom hat. Eren gave it a fond poke with his nose.

“It’s a Christmas miracle if I ever saw one,” Hanji said, flopping down on the bench facing Levi.

And then, Eren heard it. A _snort_. A dismissive snort at the word “Christmas”. He whirled around, eyes scanning the room for the perpetrator. Jean? No, he was too busy comparing paintball welts with Connie. Ymir? No, she was busy whirling Krista around on her shoulders while circling Bertholt threateningly, bellowing out how she was rocking around the Christmas tree. So that meant…no. No, it couldn’t be.

“How can you not like Christmas!?” Eren shrieked accusingly, jabbing his finger at where Annie sat.

The room fell silent. Not a creature was stirring, except for Levi’s twitching foot. Annie glowered and turtled further into her jacket.

This was a level of betrayal that Eren’s heart couldn’t handle. He could feel his mind collapsing in on itself. He clutched at his head, reeling. One of his own teammates, a…a Grinch. A Scrooge. A goddamn hater. It was too much—too much—

Too much—

\--

Eren gritted his teeth and tried blink back his tears as he marched onto the stage with the other sheep. It was the evening of the school play, and Armin looked so pretty in his blue robes and even though Eren knew that Armin couldn’t carry him like he could the plastic baby, Eren didn’t want to be a sheep, he wanted to sit on Armin’s lap and get kissed on the face by Armin and wrapped in swabboling clothes and get sang to by everyone and offered gold and Frankensteins and murder and –

\--

“Eren. Eren! Stay focused!”

“Blugh?” Eren groggily raised his head. Leave it to Armin to be sure he concentrated on the important things, instead of getting lost in his own flashbacks.

Armin crouched by him, concerned. “While you were out, we managed to contain Annie and prepare our efforts.”

Annie was securely gift-wrapped into her seat at a desk. Mikasa solemnly placed a red gift bow atop Annie’s head to complete the lockdown, never breaking eye contact with her.

“Your Christmas spirit will be made evident,” Mikasa said, low and deliberate. “Release the ghosts.”

Reiner burst from the supply closet in a sheet, groaning from deep within his chest. The ghost budget only permitted for one sheet, leading Bertholt to cower behind him, his ankles clearly visible beneath the sheet’s hem.

“IIiiiiiiiiIIIIiIIIIiIIIiiII AaaaaaaaAAMMMMMmmMMM theeeeGHOOOOOST OF CHRIiiiiiiiiiiiSTMAS PAAAAAAAST,” said Reiner.

“No,” said Annie.

Reiner paused, and scratched at his head under the sheet.

“I think she’s got me there,” he said, confused.

Eren scrambled to Annie’s gift wrap prison, gripping the sides of the desk until his knuckles turned white.

“ _Why_ ,” he hissed. “Was it something that Santa never got you? Santa’s a busy man, Annie; he takes care of seven billion people in one night.”

Annie stared at him with a flat look. Eren shook the desk violently, desperately.

“ _He’s a busy man, Annie!_ He might have just lost your list that year, for fuck’s sake--”

Armin’s hand came to rest on his, gently breaking his grip on the desk. He led Eren to sit at a facing desk, and knelt in front of him, holding his fingers light as air in his grip.

“Eren,” Armin said, softly. “It doesn’t have to be a gift that she did or didn’t get. Sometimes, it’s just…an exhaustion. With the expectations, with the rampant consumerism, with the stress…”

“If you can understand that,” Annie said. “Why am I gift-wrapped to this desk? Are you trying to make me change my mind? Open my heart to the beauty of the season, and the choking grip of obnoxious capitalism?”

Armin smiled at her beatifically. He squeezed Eren’s fingers lightly. “No. I’m doing it because Eren will never stop talking about it otherwise. It’d be best to just give up as soon as you can, to save us all the grief.”

Annie’s eyes narrowed. Her jaw was set in a firm line. “Never.”

Armin nodded. “It’s unfortunate you feel that way. Bring out the carolers.”

By this point, Mikasa had finished wrapping her hands with ribbon, and interrupted the start of Connie and Jean’s caroling routine to crack Annie across the jaw with one swift punch. Annie took a moment to collect herself, then let out a long, relaxed sigh. She flexed, bursting out of her gift wrap prison with a mighty rip and rain of color. She cricked her neck this way, that way, and put up her dukes.

“Show me that Christmas spirit of yours,” Annie murmured, low.

The corner of Mikasa’s lips twitched in the slightest of smiles, and they grappled each other out the window to land in the snow below. The others watched them disappear off into the bordering forest, a rolling ball of fists and feet, until they slipped off into the trees. A light snow began to fall, covering their tracks and sending glitter through the night skies. Eren held onto Armin’s shoulder for support, his brows knotted in worry.

“Do you think Mikasa can get through to her in time for Santa to forgive her?” Eren asked.

Armin rubbed his back soothingly. “I’m sure she will.”

Eren grew quiet, thoughtful. Armin squeezed his arm and gave a small smile.

“You just have to believe in her, that’s all--”

“Do you think Santa will blow up the Titans’ school this year?” Eren’s voice was soft as he watched the snow dust the treetops, and he drew Armin closer to him with an arm around his waist.

Armin took a moment to gather his thoughts. “…I think that’s up to Santa.”

Eren gave a somber nod. This year, he was holding out on a few Christmas miracles.

\--

As it happened, Mikasa and Annie turned up at the Jaeger household’s doorstep the next day, covered in dirt and reeking of animal blood. Annie offered a curt nod to Eren.

“I have seen that Christmas spirit is real, and want to offer you this freshly-killed Christmas goose as a peace offering.”

Eren squinted behind her. “That’s…a weird-looking goose.”

Annie regarded the dead grizzly bear at her feet briefly, then shrugged. Weird-looking goose or no, Eren was overjoyed that the magic and justice of Christmas once again triumphed, and gave a cheerful wave to Armin and his grandfather as they stood, frozen in their steps walking up the driveway. Armin gingerly stepped around the blood trails, and stood there by Eren, stiff and avoiding his grandfather’s eyes.

Eren’s mom was a great cook, and he was sure that she could skin and cook this thing in no time. And maybe they could even use the pelts to make new costumes for the cheerleading squad.

“God bless us, every one! Except fuck everyone who doesn’t love Christmas!” Eren declared. With that, he bundled Armin close to smooch his apple-red cheeks.

Overhead, through the glittering, shining snow and morning sun, there was a distant tinkling of bells, and the wild, jolly laughter of a man in a red suit, with a bazooka and a teenage boy’s Christmas wish to fulfill.


	8. Attack on Valentine's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren will make this a great Valentine's Day if it's the last thing he ever does.

Eren took Valentine’s Day seriously, as he did most things. His younger years were marked by all-nighters spent painstakingly preparing personalized cards for each and every one of his classmates. Even Jean got one – after all, Valentine’s Day was all about sincere outpourings of emotion, and there was nothing insincere about Eren’s feelings that Jean was a stupid poo baby.

Certain individuals, though, received more than a tenderly-crafted card, carefully assembled with the finest macaroni and glitter glue. Certain individuals deserved the moon and the stars, even if all Eren could really afford was what he could save up from his allowance and chore duty. Celestial offerings being out of the question with Eren’s current savings, certain individuals needed to be provided with a consolation prize worthy of them.

Eren stared mournfully at the aquarium selection in the pet store. Armin already had like a million of those sucker fishes (“Plecostomus,” he could hear Armin correct him in his mind’s ear), and those other fish might say “shark” on them but Armin had told him that they wouldn’t grow as big as Eren was probably hoping. This false advertising confused and upset him, as Eren had wanted to dig a moat around Armin’s house and fill it with some sharks and maybe a crocodile or two. This would keep Armin safe, and Armin loved keeping his aquarium besides. Alas, his plans had come to a screeching halt, and he was down another Valentine’s gift idea.

He sighed and turned. Mikasa stood behind him, and a large tropical bird was perched upon her head. She appeared to be paying it no mind.

“Let’s go,” Eren grumbled.

“Perhaps you could buy him a shark or three,” Mikasa offered. “And dig a moat around his house to keep him safe.”

“Armin said that these sharks will only grow to like, four feet. Or even less.”

Mikasa’s eyes narrowed. “…false advertising. How disingenuous.”

“BRAWK,” shrieked the bird, and flew off into the bowels of the shop.

“Right!?” Eren shoved his hands into his jeans pockets, and began to stalk out of the store in righteous fury. “And they don’t even eat criminals. Only worms and shrimp.”

Eren had had quite enough of the deceit inherent in the capitalist bastion known as the mall pet store. And yet, he had precious little other choice but to search its depths for a gift worthy of Armin. He eyed the bag swinging from Mikasa’s arm.

“What’d you get Annie?”

“Ten pounds of beef jerky and seasons one through four of Man Versus Wild,” Mikasa said, coolly. “It will be the prize for her besting me two out of three in a cage match.”

An almost dreamy smile crossed Mikasa’s face.

“It will be very invigorating,” she finished.

For a moment, Eren considered the thought of challenging Armin to a cage match. The idea of hitting Armin, even for fun (or for – whatever Mikasa and Annie felt when trying to knock each other’s skull in), was completely foreign to him. Maybe they could have like, a pillow fight? Where the winner could do whatever they wanted to the loser? And Eren could deliberately throw the match and be at Armin’s total mercy and maybe Armin could pull his hair a little and –

Eren likely would have seen the water fountain coming had he not been enraptured by his thoughts of screwing Armin senseless in a nest of pillows. As it was, he tripped over his feet and tumbled in with a splash. Mikasa tilted her head thoughtfully.

“I was still planning out the cage match,” she said. “I apologize for not warning you. Shall we get going if you haven’t found an appropriate gift?”

Eren scowled and clambered to his feet, and dried himself with a quick, furious shake.

“I guess,” he mumbled.

Thanks to the dishonesty of the world of retail, a sharks-and-crocodile moat was beyond his means to grant. A high-stakes pillow fight, while extremely tempting, didn’t seem quite enough. Eren would have to go undercover. He had a mission, and would not fail it.

-*-

Lying to Armin was painful. But to make this Valentine’s Day truly great, the ends justified the means.

The scene: in Armin’s room, on Armin’s bed, cozied up all warm and snuggly while Armin did his coursework from the university classes he took on the side. The warmth and Armin’s soft hair against his cheek was hard to give up, but the plan must be set into motion. Eren cleared his throat, and steeled his determination.

“Armin–”

Armin gave a quick, sneaky kiss to Eren’s jaw, and focused his attention back to his laptop. Eren’s mind screamed at him to focus, while Eren’s heart and wiener screamed at him to get more smooches. There would be time enough for smooches later. Stick to the plan.

“Armin. I really need popcorn and I need you to get it and also leave your laptop open when you leave the room.”

Armin slowly turned to meet Eren’s eyes. Eren stared, blank-faced and unblinkingly back. Emotions were suspicious. Blinking was suspicious. Banish both until the mission is complete.

Armin sighed and squirmed out from under the covers with some reluctance.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he said. “I’ll knock before coming in.”

Everything was coming up Eren. Armin was none the wiser, and even was going to knock before coming back with the popcorn; probably to announce that there was popcorn. As Armin shuffled out of the room in his bunny slippers, Eren lunged for the laptop the second the door closed.

He frantically clicked through the complex essays and charts that Armin was doing for his class, clicked through the open tabs and bookmarks in his browser to find something, anything that would tell him what Armin would want for a gift. The minutes ticked by, agonizing. The popcorn would be ready soon, too soon, and the plan would be a failure. Eren would not give in to despair, and would not be defeated.

Suddenly, he saw it, a folder in Armin’s bookmarks. “Lolita wishlist.” Filled with dresses – dresses that Armin would look _so hell-ass fucking pretty in_ , and, and…shit, those price tags were steep, but if Armin wanted these, and then he could wear them to the school’s Valentine’s dance, and…

There was a knock at the door. Eren grabbed at his phone.

“Just a second! Not ready for the popcorn yet!” he yelled as he furiously typed in some relevant information for his search.

Eren carefully reviewed the data he’d gathered (“ARMIN IN FRILLY DRESS V DAY DANCE GO HERE,” with pertinent URLs), and set his phone carefully back on the side table. He made sure to close out all the tabs he’d opened on Armin’s laptop, and even brought up the document he’d been working on. His tracks now flawlessly covered, he leapt out of bed, full of adrenaline and the satisfaction of a job well done. He flung open the door himself, and took the popcorn bowl in one arm as he swept Armin into the other to plant a smooch on his mouth. Armin drew back, eyebrows raised, but mouth quirked in a fond smile. He paused just long enough to cup Eren’s cheek with his hand, thumb skimming along the curve as he leaned back in.

Just as Eren thought, there would be time enough for smooches.

-*-

With the precious intel he’d gathered, Eren now had a plan of action. There was simply the matter of gathering the funds to pursue it. He had some money saved up, sure, but those dresses were expensive, and he still had to find a way to make a few hundred dollars (plus the fee for super-fast shipping). Asking his parents for money was an absolute last resort. Only the weakest of boyfriends asked for help from their parents when buying dresses for their boyfriend. Eren had strength and determination to spare, and there was simply the matter of finding a way to monetize it. And quickly.

He thought on this, long and hard, during home economics the following day. Coach Levi taught it, which made it a miserable enough experience to begin with – they had spent a whole semester on learning the best chemicals to clean every household surface, and last year’s final exam was a pass/fail on whether you could dissemble, clean, and reassemble a vacuum in under three minutes. When the school administration forced him to do cooking courses, it took on a whole new level of awful.

As Connie moved to set his batter-dripping mixing spoon down for a moment, Levi seized it before it could even touch the countertop, and scurried over to the sink to furiously scrub it clean. Connie made a helpless noise, gesturing at the half-mixed bowl of cookie dough in front of him.

“Coach, I wasn’t done!” he protested.

Levi fixed him with a beady-eyed glare over his face mask as he bent over the spoon, scrubbing it almost jealously.

“ _Raw eggs_ ,” Levi hissed. “Cookie dough has raw eggs, which have salmonella, which will breed their horrible little dicks dry all over my classroom’s countertops if you touch them with your filthy spoons.”

“As if you don’t douse the place in bleach after every class period,” Jean mumbled under his breath.

Levi descended upon him in an instant. “Kirstein,” he said, low and dangerous. “ _What_ did you say was the best chemical combination to clean my _granite_ countertops?”

Jean swallowed hard, his face white as a sheet. His eyes darted to focus on a point on the ceiling instead of at Levi’s soul-piercing glare. Despite himself, Eren couldn’t help but sympathize.

“U-uh. That would be. Three parts dish soap to one part rubbing alcohol. Bleach will eat away at the surface and the micro-abrasions will become breeding grounds for bacteria.”

Levi hmmed in approval, and slowly moved back to the sink with the spoon, never breaking eye contact with Jean until he was once more within reach of the dish soap. Jean heaved a sigh of relief and slumped back against the countertop. Training for the cooking competition against the Titans was rough.

Krista spooned another blob of cookie dough onto the pan, her head tilted in thought. “Have you thought about helping out Coach Hanji in her lab? She’s always talking about how she’s looking for assistants.”

Since Armin and Mikasa didn’t have home economics this period, Eren had to seek other project partnership, which usually landed him with Connie or Krista. Krista always had a sympathetic ear and a deft hand with a spatula and burn cream, so it wasn’t too terrible. (Even though Eren sometimes had to deal with Ymir glaring at him hatefully through the windows. Didn’t she have better things to do at this time of day? Like be in class?) Currently, she was advising him on options to sell himself for quick cash, and if all she could think of was to hand himself over to the mercy of Hanji, Eren’s options were grim. Krista patted his arm encouragingly.

“I’ve heard that her main focus has been environmental science recently,” she said. “She’ll probably just have you out in the field with her for a week, collecting data–”

On cue, Hanji’s foot kicked the door of the classroom in. She strolled in, whistling, and dragging a black garbage bag behind her. The garbage bag smelled suspiciously corpse-esque, and the outline of whatever was inside did not dispel this assumption.

“Was on my way back from the university to pick up a fresh cadaver, and I smelled cookies baking!” she trilled. “Your taste tester’s here!”

Levi seemed to be paralyzed with indecision on whether to yell at her first for her mud-caked boots, her dripping wet coat, or for the dead body she had dragged into his classroom. He clutched the now-sparkling clean spoon close to his chest, like a protective talisman, as Hanji approached.

“Take the goddamn cookies and leave, and take the fucking stiff with y–”

Hanji pinched his cheek and stuffed two cookies into her mouth, and a heaping handful into each coat pocket. Levi’s face was stark white, and contorted into a frozen, terrifying grimace. Noise eventually escaped him like a deflating balloon, and he lunged, grabbing Hanji by the collar and dragging her (and the body) to the door.

Eren watched them go, and steeled himself for his fate.

What was a little bit of work with the dead when Valentine’s Day was on the line?

-*-

“Would you care to discuss it?” asked Mikasa.

“No,” Eren said. “Find the yellow and black one with the bunny design. That was the first one on Armin’s list.”

Somehow, Mikasa let him leave it at that. For that, Eren was grateful. It had been a very, very long week. The experience had gotten him enough money to make up the difference for the dress, as well as the knowledge that the forensics they showed on television was complete bullshit. Now that he had what he needed, he was eager to leave the whole sorry business behind him and move forward, move forward to buying dresses from websites that he couldn’t read, move forward to dressing Armin up in them and twirling him around at the Valentine’s dance.

“Size,” Mikasa prompted.

“Huh? I dunno, I think he takes a small size in shirts.”

Mikasa eyed him and pointed to the screen. “Exact centimeters. We must order tonight for it to arrive on time, even on the fastest shipping option. We must make haste to Armin’s to take his measurements without him being any the wiser. I will enter through the window while you create some form of sexually-based diversion, and…”

Eren wasn’t listening – the direness of the situation and his determination had sent him to the Zone. They needed exact measurements, and certainly couldn’t ask Armin directly lest the surprise be spoiled. Eren stared at the list of needed measurements on Mikasa’s laptop screen. Waist – easy enough, about sixty-four centimeters, converting from the inches of his trouser waist size. Hip, also easy. Eren’s hands had smoothed down Armin’s sides often enough to know that his lean, narrow hips were barely wider than his waist – perhaps a centimeter or two for give, but it didn’t seem like it’d matter from the size chart. Shoulder and bust were trickier. But wait – Armin had worn Eren’s shirts often enough to give him an idea. Almost in a trance, Eren seized the measuring tape from Mikasa’s hands and held it to his shoulders, his chest. The fabric from Eren’s shirts had draped from Armin’s shoulders just so, and the collar dropped down about _this_ low…when Eren returned to his senses, he had typed in the exact numbers to the computer. Eren squinted almost in disbelief at what they boiled down to in the site’s sizing list.

“…a _large_? For Armin? Geez, Japanese clothes are weird.”

Mikasa stared at him, with a hint of disappointment in her features. She reluctantly set down her rope and grappling hook to take her laptop back and complete the order.

“It is done,” she said. “The shipment will arrive on the eve of Valentine’s Day.”

Eren heaved a sigh of relief. No more digging holes in the woods, no more bolting out of the way from Hanji hurling axes. It was just time to sit, and wait for the mailman to pull through.

-*-

The stage had been set for a romantic evening. The dress had arrived that morning, and Eren had taken the time to wrap it as beautifully as he was able. Roughly a dozen bows were plastered to the wrapping paper, and Eren tried hard not to crush them as he carried the package to Armin’s door to pick him up for the dance. Mikasa was driving, and her parents had let her borrow the car with the ski rack on top – which was a good thing, as the only way Mikasa had gotten Annie to agree to come to a school dance was to best her in a duel and tie her to said ski rack. Eren turned to look at Mikasa before he knocked, steeling himself. Mikasa waved vaguely, busying herself with re-securing Annie’s ropes.

Eren swallowed hard, and rang the doorbell. Armin was at the door within the minute, and oh, he looked so great in his dress pants and silk vest and red bow tie and Eren almost reconsidered giving him the present. Almost. That week in the forest dragging a corpse around still weighed in heavily.

“Y…you look great, but, here.” Eren shoved the package into Armin’s arms. “Look inside and maybe you can wear it to the dance tonight if you want to.”

Armin delicately opened the package, taking care not to rip the paper, and selected a green bow to stick on to Eren’s shirt like a corsage. His eyes went wide as the package’s contents were brought to light.

Eren hadn’t felt this awkward since he was thirteen years old and popping a boner every time Armin brushed up against him when walking to class. His heart was pounding as Armin held the dress up to himself.

“…it’s one of the ones you wanted, right? And fits okay?”

Eren didn’t feel like he’d ever get enough of the feel of Armin tucked up against him in his arms, but this, this was even more special than usual. Armin buried his face against his neck, mouthing thank you, thank you, over and over again into his skin. Eren drew him even closer, tucked his nose into Armin’s hair, and breathed a deep, happy sigh.

Their moment was ruined by Mikasa breaking the silence of the night air.

“The prisoner grows restless. Please go change and we can be off.”

Armin drew back just enough to cup Eren’s face in his hands, bringing their foreheads to rest against each other. He smiled, then, and his eyes were so blue, and that week in the woods seemed like nothing at all.

-*-

The dance went well, all things considered. The music wasn’t bad, the crowd was the same as ever, and Annie only managed to break out of her restraints three-quarters of the night through. That last quarter was pretty intense, but Eren still managed to get his slow dance with Armin once Hanji got the net out. Mikasa and Annie were relegated to the penalty box for the remainder of the evening, with Ymir (who’d spiked the punch) and Sasha (who’d drank the punch and then punched out Jean in an argument over the applicability of the Chicken Dance in social gatherings) for company. Connie and Krista awkwardly swayed with each other on the dance floor out of some sense of solidarity. Eren and Armin twirled around the floor to the sounds of Celine Dion, while Levi mopped up the blood from the floor and Reiner (another punch victim) half-danced with, half-sobbed on Bertholt about the movie _Titanic_.

“And they’re together at the end, you know? And that’s how you know she never let go, Bert, she just never did…”

Reiner dissolved into weeping, and buried his face against Bertholt’s chest as Bertholt continued to drag him around the dance floor, clearly at a loss for what else to do.

The night ended, and Mikasa drove them back to Armin’s house. Eren had already told his mom that he’d be staying over at Armin’s that night, and Armin had cleared it with his grandfather, and that meant—

“We _don’t need any fucking more!_ ” Eren tried and failed to slap Mikasa’s hands away as she stuffed more condoms into his pockets.

Mikasa more delicately placed a few more condoms into Armin’s purse (her gift to him, from the same website), and nodded to them both.

“I hope that you enjoy your sexual activity tonight,” she said. “Be it anal intercourse or not. We will be taking our leave to conclude the discussion that Coach Hanji interrupted at the dance.”

So “discussion” is what they called that dance floor battle. Eren wasn’t terribly surprised that the two of them possessed such intense moves, but the amount of blood in a human body always somehow astounded him.

Eren and Armin waved Mikasa off, and would have done the same to Annie if she had not been relocated to the trunk. Up in Armin’s room, they tucked close to each other on the bed, silent and comfortable and warm. Armin had taken off and hung up the outer part of the dress once they’d gotten into the room to keep it clean, and now relaxed against Eren in underclothes and tights and petticoats. Armin’s lace-gloved fingers tugged at the knot of Eren’s tie until it slithered undone.

“…are you mad that I went through your laptop without asking?” Eren asked, softly.

Eren felt Armin shake his head more than he saw it. Armin’s fingers moved to the top buttons on Eren’s shirt, and snuck under his shirt once they were undone. Eren let his eyes close briefly at the feel of Armin’s lace gloves tracing his collarbone.

“Thank you for buying this for me,” Armin said, softly. His fingers trailed up Eren’s neck, and up to his jaw. “I know how expensive it all is. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”

Eren made a low noise as Armin’s lips found his earlobe, and lower still when Armin set his teeth to it.

“…n…no trouble,” Eren murmured.

Armin moved, slow and deliberate in a whisper of petticoats to straddle Eren. He bracketed Eren’s head with his hands, and leaned down to press his lips, just a touch, to the side of Eren’s mouth.

“Can I repay you anyway?” he asked.

Eren sucked in a breath as Armin settled himself to sit on him, his ass firm against an erection that was becoming more obvious by the second. Armin shifted his hips, and smiled so fucking sweetly at the moan that tore from Eren’s lips at the jolt of pleasure the movement caused.

Armin went willingly when Eren fisted his hands in his hair to drag him in for a proper kiss. God, they never got time to themselves lately, they never did, never an empty house so they could come out from under the covers and get their clothes fully off and be as loud as they wanted. It was only ever hurried handjobs underneath the blankets with Armin’s hand clamped over his own mouth, Eren trying and failing to keep himself quiet with the skin of Armin’s neck while Armin’s other hand reached back to grasp him and return the favor. They hadn’t had a place to themselves once – not even _once_ – since that night two months back when he’d put it in Armin for the first time, and fuck, Eren would die if it was also going to be the last time. When Eren was in bed alone, he would let his eyes drift shut, his hand drift down, and remember the little gasp Armin had made when Eren first pushed inside, the way Armin’s entire body was shivering and blushing by the end, the way his thighs squeezed him tight as he came with Eren’s cock buried deep inside of him.

Eren made a frustrated noise, and his hands dove underneath Armin’s petticoats. Armin kissed Eren’s temple, lace gloves scratching lightly against his cheek.

“My grandfather’s downstairs,” Armin whispered. “We…we have to be quiet, if we’re going to…”

Eren’s fingers met with the soft, _soft_ skin of Armin’s inner thigh, just peeking out from the tops of his thigh highs. He followed the softness, the warmth upward, until his hand fumbled up to grasp at his dick through his panties. Eren gave Armin a pained look.

“I’ll be quiet, stuff a sock in my mouth if you have to, just, can we…can we please, I wanna be in you so fucking bad…”

He was rambling, and so, so sincere about every word stumbling out of his mouth. He’d deal with being gagged, but right now, he needed to fuck Armin so bad that he felt like he was going to explode. Armin whimpered and rocked into his hand, which did _not_ help matters at all. Eren jerked him, firm and slow, his body on fire as every rock of Armin’s hips rubbed the tight swell of his ass against his painfully hard cock.

“Wait,” Armin whispered, and Eren did, he did even though he felt like every second not spent touching, kissing, inside Armin was a second wasted off his life.

Armin shifted himself off Eren, and kissed him to hush the strangled moan of protest that arose.

“Get the – the lube and c-condoms ready, I want to get out of my petticoats so they don’t stain…”

Eren yanked open the nightstand drawer nearly out of the nightstand altogether, and grabbed a handful of condoms and the tiny plastic tube from their hiding place underneath notebooks and pens. Armin climbed back on top of Eren, still wearing the thigh-highs, still wearing his gloves, and nothing else at all. Even when shaking, his hands made faster work of the buttons of Eren’s shirt than Eren’s would have in this situation. Eren nearly broke his promise of quiet the second that Armin’s lacey fingers brushed against and circled his nipples.

“Prep me?” Armin asked, soft.

Eren nodded so hard he felt like his head would wobble off. He wet his fingers with the tube and drew Armin close, chest to chest, and tucked his mouth behind Armin’s ear as his hand dipped lower.

Eren wouldn’t let himself forget what happened the first time he’d tried to get Armin ready, though he was currently determined to make Armin forget. He let his finger circle gently, just one finger, with the barest hint of pressure, pressing wet kisses and breathing wet breaths behind and into Armin’s ear. When he tried to slide it in, _god_ , it was so easy, so warm and tight. Eren slid it in to the knuckle, rubbing Armin’s back to soothe him. Armin didn’t seem to need any soothing at all. Eren could feel his heart pounding against his chest, and Armin tilted his hips up and back, his breath whispering out _please_ on every exhale.

Two fingers, _three_ , and Armin’s teeth were in Eren’s shoulder, silencing his moans against the skin. Eren watched Armin’s hips move, entranced, watched Armin fuck himself on Eren’s fingers. It was almost a sight enough to made Eren forget about the needy ache between his thighs, _almost_ enough, but fuck, was Eren glad when Armin shivered and shifted and grabbed at a condom from the nightstand. He leaned back to unzip Eren’s pants, yank them down his hips just enough. He ripped the condom open and rolled it over Eren’s cock – _fuck_ , Armin could make anything look sexy – and grabbed at the base to hold it steady as he lowered himself down with trembling thighs.

That gasp, there was that little gasp again, when the head of Eren’s cock just pushed into him. Eren felt his eyes roll back into his head. He’d die for sure if Armin was going to make that noise every time; god, he hoped he would. Eren grabbed at the fabric of Armin’s thigh highs, fingers dipping underneath the tops, to keep his hands from grabbing at Armin’s hips to yank him down. Soon, soon enough, Armin‘s hips were nestled up against his again, Eren’s dick in him to the root. Armin breathed out a shivering sigh and smoothed his gloved hands against the bare skin of Eren’s stomach, drifting upward until he could grasp at Eren’s shoulders. Armin’s eyes fluttered shut as he gave a small, experimental roll of his hips, then another.

“Armin, kiss me,” Eren sighed.

Armin’s mouth met his, keeping them both quiet as Armin bounced in his lap, and Eren’s death grip on Armin’s thighs shifted to his hips and waist, fingers digging in and holding Armin there as Eren’s hips stuttered and slammed into him. Armin’s cock rubbed against his stomach, hot and hard and wet, and Eren released one hand to jerk him in time to their thrusts.

Eren knew he wouldn’t last even a minute more; he could feel the pleasure spiking up his spine and shivering down his thighs. He gripped Armin’s cock tighter, thumb rubbing over the glistening slit, and gave a sharp upward thrust. Armin gave a stuttering gasp against his neck and tightened up around his cock. His hand fumbled up to Eren’s jaw.

“There, there again, please,” he pleaded, barely above a whisper.

Eren couldn’t hold it back any more, but tried to hit that sweet spot inside Armin again with every last, shaking thrust as he came himself dry. Armin kept riding him, kept fucking himself on Eren’s cock and squeezing tight until he came into Eren’s fist, muffling his voice against Eren’s shoulder.

“Hey,” Eren said, smoothing his hand into Armin’s hair as Armin shifted to let Eren’s cock slide out of him. “Come up here.”

Armin murmured assent and crawled up to the pillows, letting Eren nuzzle underneath his chin and rest there. He set his lips against Armin’s pulse point, feeling it calm and slow. Armin smoothed his hand through Eren’s hair.

“Want me to give you your present now? It’s a walking Yoshi plush. I made it myself.”

Eren’s eyes flew open. He got to nail Armin _and_ got a Yoshi robot.

This was the best Valentine’s Day ever.

-*-

In retrospect, it wasn’t surprising that Eren and Armin awoke the next morning to find that Mikasa had made good on her pledge to dig a protective moat around Armin’s house.

The surprising thing was the sharks. And that she, in the same night, had also managed a matching installation around Eren’s house.


	9. Attack on Birthdays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren awakens on his birthday to a tale of kidnapping and betrayal.

What was that phrase that they always said about March weather? “In like a lion, out like a lamb.” This was a fucking lie. “In like snow, out like why the fuck is it still snowing.” Eren would have despaired, would have raged, if the weather hadn’t dictated that he and Armin get all cuddled up warm-like underneath Eren’s comforter. 

You win this round, weather patterns, Eren thought, darkly. 

The year was midway through seventh grade, the occasion, Eren’s fourteenth birthday. The other occasion, the official three-month anniversary of him and Armin officially becoming official boyfriends. Eren had made a certificate to complete the officialization and mark the occasion, and Armin had taken it with rosy pink cheeks and a soft smile and fuck, that alone nearly made up for Mikasa’s killjoy comments that the rows of star stickers were slightly off-kilter. Eren couldn’t stand those who couldn’t comprehend his artistic intentions. Do you look up at the night sky and call the stars up there off-center? Mikasa probably would. Mikasa probably did. Mikasa probably was going to fly up there herself one day, light-years upon light-years driving a space tow truck, and haul each and every one of those stars into place. Then she’d probably start filling in all the potholes on the moon.

But Armin, he understood. He knew. He knew that part of what made nature so great was how beautiful it was even in its chaos. It could make shit like coral reefs and penguins and islands from lava. Armin had told him all about this, had told him in prettier, more exact terms how volcanoes puke their guts out to make more ground. Life from chaos, beauty from violence, he’d explained.

This had certain parallels to Eren’s current situation. Namely: the way Armin’s hair had rumpled against his pillow had given Eren a boner. Life from chaos, boners from chaos, Eren’s pillow, Armin in his bed. If being fourteen meant more of this, then Eren was both amazed and terrified at the prospect.

Eren shifted his hips away from Armin, awkward and all nerves. They’d known each other for years, had held hands and hugged and kissed and it’d seemed so simple, until it...wasn’t. Until he’d started having dreams of Armin’s huge, luminous eyes looking up at him, lidded, hair a golden halo against the pillow ( _Eren’s pillow Armin in his bed_ ), white skin and sharp collarbones peeking from under his shirt, whimpering and reaching for him and then Eren would wake to the fact that he’d made a mess of his sheets. It’d led to Eren reflecting on his feelings, reflecting on his life, reflecting on why Armin jumped when Eren touched him now, why he was so stiff and awkward during their hugs. 

This implied a few things. The first of which was that Armin was psychic and could see Eren’s dreams about him and could see that he usually was thinking about his butt instead of History class. Eren devised a few quick exercises to test this theory. He tried to project a thought into Armin's brain, but that only made Armin upset because he apparently looked like he was trying to shit out his intestines. The second test was one that Eren saw in a movie where you hold up a tarot card and stare at the person until they tell you what’s on the other side. Except Eren didn’t have tarot cards, but he did have a Disney-themed playing card deck where Donald was the Joker. This struck Eren as deeply unfair. Donald was forever being crushed under the wheels of fate and was always roundly mocked for his righteous anger. Eren thought on all of the times that Mikasa had noogied him for yelling at Mario Kart, on all of the times that his mom had grounded him for biting off the ears of the jerks that bullied Armin, and felt a deep kinship to the duck. Eren vaguely remembered that he was supposed to be doing something with tarot cards, but couldn’t recall what.

The second thing it implied was that Eren smelled bad. This was likely, but did not seem to be remedied by the careful application of the entire contents of his parents’ cologne and perfume cabinets; in fact, all that really did was aggravate Armin’s allergies and make Eren smell like a musky fruit stand explosion. 

The third thing it implied was that, maybe, just maybe, Armin was having similar dreams. 

Shockingly, this turned out to be correct. 

A heart-to-heart one December evening had led to their Official Boyfriend status, and all the perks that entailed, which mostly involved being able to hold hands with and hug Armin again without him freezing up.

This did nothing, nothing to stop those dreams. The soft texture of Armin’s skin was now a feature, and the warm smell of his hair, and the fit of Armin’s growing body against his. 

Eren was dumb, but he wasn’t that dumb. With the new-found perspective offered by Sex Ed class (taught by Coach Hanji from the high school, who was scary but pretty cool and would always answer your questions), he understood these dreams were normal; expected, really, for a boy his age. Eren presumed they were especially expected when you had a boyfriend (boyfriend, boyfriend) as amazing and pretty and beautiful as Armin.

That didn’t make the boners any less awkward when they happened in Armin’s presence. Or out of his presence. (Eren once got a boner from looking at a mop that resembled Armin’s hair. It was not his proudest moment.) He knew on an intellectual level that Armin probably got awkward boners too (he tried not to think about it too often because the thought of Armin getting boners only made Eren’s boners grow stronger), but he was Armin and so perfect and Eren wanted to spend every minute of his day with him and he didn’t want Armin to think that was just because he wanted to...to do that with him. 

Armin’s eyes slit open, warm and blue. 

“Eren...?” he asked, sleepily. 

He shuffled closer to nestle against Eren’s chest again; Armin got so cold in this weather. The movement made their hips bump and press together again, ripping an embarrassing little groan from Eren’s chest and oh god Armin’s going to be creeped out he’s never going to want to be on my pillow in my bed ever again—

Armin gave a shivering gasp in response, and pressed his hips closer. That was Armin’s boner against his own. That was Armin’s boner against Eren’s boner with Armin on Eren’s pillow in Eren’s bed, warm and soft and nice-smelling and tucked up firm against him, chest to chest, hip to hip.

Armin’s foot tucked itself between Eren’s ankles, his hands coming up and around to press his palms flat against Eren’s back. He took a deep breath, and finally met Eren’s eye.

“Nocturnal penile tumescence. It’s...it’s involuntary on part of the body. Perfectly natural,” he explained, haltingly.

Eren nodded, his attention rapt and singularly on Armin. Armin’s skin was flushed from the tips of his ears to the hollow of his throat, and his skin burned hot and his heart raced and his whole body trembled in Eren’s arms as he coiled them around him to return Armin’s embrace. 

Armin’s eyes were blue, and dark, and nearly disappeared behind his lashes as he let out a shuddering sigh and rolled his hips again; slowly, hesitantly.

“Armin,” Eren begged, his hands scrabbling up Armin’s back to fist in his hair. “Kiss me.”

Armin sighed his agreement, and leaned in to brush his lips against Eren’s. They’d done this part before, at least; a small anchor of experience in the midst of Armin’s nails raking the back of his neck and his dick grinding against Eren’s. But oh, that was Armin’s tongue darting between his lips, they’d never done tongue kissing before but the gentle brush of Armin’s tongue against his own and his hot, hard dick rubbing against his and those sighs, those soft little sighs—

Was it supposed to last more than thirty seconds? Eren was pretty sure it was supposed to last at least like, double that. He wasn’t sure how he’d ever learn to hold out that long, not when it was Armin kissing him (with his _tongue_ ) and grinding his hips against him (with his _boner_ ). In any event, after thirty seconds, Eren was yelping and bucking and making a mess of his sleeping shorts.

Through his haze, he noted that Armin had frozen in place, shaking and tomato-red and still hard. Eren pressed an unsteady hand to Armin’s lower belly, feeling the muscles there jump under the touch.

“You…did you not want that?” Eren whispered.

Armin shook his head; no, no, not a no. “I did, no, I did; honestly, I wanted it, it’s just that, you’re done and, and penile sensitivity after orgasm, it’s…I thought if I kept going, I’d…”

Armin trailed off, tucking his face against the pillow. Eren swallowed and took an unsteady breath. The hand pressed against Armin’s stomach started to shake harder.

“Can I touch it?” Eren asked. “Please?”

And Armin’s eyes went wider and his cheeks redder, but he was _nodding_ , god. After a long, thoughtful moment, Armin rolled onto his back. His hair spilled against Eren’s pillow, and—and really, was Eren getting hard _again_ over the hair thing? He didn’t understand his boner sometimes, even when Armin was involved. Eren’s brain abruptly short-circuited as Armin’s hands tugged down the hem of his sleeping pants.

_Wow_. Eren had known he’d liked dudes since before he could spell his own name, but this was just proof positive. Armin lying on his bed, hair rumpled and eyes clouded with need, flushed down his neck and below the collar of his loose, soft sleeping shirt. Said sleeping shirt rucked up just enough at the bottom to show his belly button and slim hips and fine blond down dusting a line down to his dick (god, Armin had hair down there already; Eren would’ve been jealous if he wasn’t overcome with the need to just _pet_ it). Eren reached out to smear the wetness from Armin’s dick’s leaking tip with his thumb, almost reverently. Armin’s hand flew up to cover the yelp that tore from his mouth, and his head fell back against the pillow. Wow. _Wow._ Touching dicks was fucking awesome.

It took only six strokes – six strokes, and just when Eren was deciding that he _really_ needed to see if Armin liked having his balls played with as much as Eren did when he did this to himself, Armin’s whole body stiffened, and he thrashed to the side to bury his face in Eren’s pillow as his body released in a wave of shudders, coming into Eren’s fist. Eren stared at his hand, transfixed.

This was the best birthday ever.    
  


* * *

 

Eren blinked open his eyes, yawned, stretched. Usually when his brain decided to show him flashbacks they were about his adventures in preschool, and while it was always nice to reminisce about Armin’s rosy round cheeks and buck teeth from those days, reliving the time when he first touched Armin’s dick was definitely a nice change of pace.

Speaking of touching Armin’s dick…Eren rolled over to wrap his arms around where Armin had been napping next to him while the cupcakes baked. Emphasis on “had been”, as Eren’s hands only met sheets. Eren peered around the room, overwhelmed with a strange sense of unease. Had he gone down to check on the oven? Mikasa was down there with her computer, watching it already. And Eren trusted Armin enough that he knew Armin wouldn’t have started frosting the cupcakes without him. Something suspicious was afoot.

Eren crept down the stairs, baseball bat in one hand, tennis racquet in the other. If there were burglars or serial killers or one of those fucking Titans waiting, he’d be ready. Instead, it was only Mikasa, staring him down from the doorway to the kitchen with a plateful of cupcakes. Eren’s finely-honed instincts still screamed at him that something was up, and he thus did not lower his guard. Or his sports sticks.

“Where’s Armin,” Eren said.

Mikasa did not move from her position, did not move a muscle. Or maybe she did; maybe her abs were laughing at him. Eren wouldn’t doubt that for a moment.

“ _Where’s Armin_ ,” Eren repeated, considerably less calmly.

“Out,” Mikasa said, simply. “Eat a cupcake and wait patiently.”

Out. _Out?_ Out where? And why hadn’t Armin said anything before they’d put those cupcakes in the oven, gone upstairs to lie down together, snuggled up together, dozed off together…Eren’s despair was replaced by rage when Mikasa interrupted his thoughts by jamming a cupcake in his mouth. He snarled, spat the cupcake back into her hand, twisting and turning, smearing the half-chewed mash and frosting across his face.

“Keep your fucking cupcakes and tell me where Armin went—MFF.”

Mikasa had wrestled him to the floor with one arm, still holding the cupcake pan in the other. Eren’s blood boiled. Mikasa was putting cupcakes above Eren’s right to know where the fuck Armin was, and on Eren’s birthday no less. Eren would not stand for this. A kick, a thrash, and a brief scuffle, and the cupcake pan was sent flying; Eren himself flying on foot out the front door in his socks. He caught a glimpse of Mikasa backflipping to catch the cupcake pan; at least Eren now knew where her priorities lay.

Eren knew that he had precious little time until Mikasa burst through the outside wall of the house to run him down like the Terminator. He knew that he needed a place to hide; a place to gather intel and find out who had kidnapped Armin, and where, and whether it would be more painful to beat them to death with a baseball bat or a tennis racquet.

Eren could think of one person whose advice he trusted on that last subject.  
  


* * *

  
It was a risk to seek asylum at Annie’s place, but truly, there was no place better safeguarded against Mikasa’s assault. Annie was constantly upping the stakes in her and Mikasa’s ongoing game, and Mikasa did in turn. It was an arms race on who could invade the other’s home to spray-paint obscenities on the walls, toilet paper the chimney, dump gasoline all over each other’s beds, and however else girls had sex.

Annie had found him when Eren had triggered one of her net traps, and was about to leave him suspended fifty feet in the air from the trees when he pleaded his case. Luckily, he managed to draw her interest. The opportunity to continue her war with Mikasa seemed to be reason enough for Annie, but Eren knew that she was not unfond of Armin – or at least respected him as a skilled member of their team. The idea of him getting kidnapped by parties unknown clearly did not sit well with her. (Annie had kidnapped him and Armin once as part of the Mikasa War; they got to sit in her awesome basement for a weekend and be surrounded by a moat of sharks. But that was different than this.)

“Was there evidence,” Annie asked. “A sign of struggle.”

Eren shook his head. His room had looked the same as it always did; a mess. Annie’s eyes narrowed.

“Then,” she said. “It’s likely that he went willingly. Tricked into it by someone he trusts.”

Eren was taken aback. The idea of someone that Armin trusted betraying him like that made his vision burn red. But who…? While Armin seemed to like most of their teammates, he wouldn’t go along with any of them with no questions asked. He definitely wouldn’t go with the coaches so trustingly, either. So…that meant…

Annie rose to unlock her equipment cabinet. She threw Eren a mountain-climbing harness and climbing hooks. Eren hurled them to the floor, bristling with anger.

“Mikasa _wouldn’t_. Why _would_ she.” The question was as much for him as it was for Annie.

Annie regarded him evenly as she smeared her face with camouflage makeup.

“We will invade Ackermann’s house to interrogate her on where she is holding Arlert. Take her alive at all costs.”  
  


* * *

  
The plan was for stealth, Annie had explained to him. Scale to the top floor of the house and get the drop on Mikasa, then secure her and interrogate. Despair, betrayal, and rage did not allow these instructions to reach Eren’s heart. Was he really supposed to believe that Mikasa had kidnapped Armin? Mikasa, who Eren’s family had taken in for two years while her parents recovered from that car crash? Armin, who was the only person Mikasa interacted with that she didn’t try to force-feed cupcakes or attempt to murder? It made no sense, it just made no  _sense_ —

They crouched in the bushes outside of Mikasa’s house. Mikasa’s head passed by the window, seemingly unaware of their presence.

“On my mark,” Annie said. “We strafe around to the backyard and climb the sheer wall. She’ll expect the trellis. One, two—”

Eren shrieked a war cry and hurtled his way in through the front door. The scene was one of chaos and confusion. His teammates were all there, in the process of putting on party hats and frozen in the movement of taping up decorations. Reiner stopped rubbing helium balloons on his boobs for long enough to blink, smile, and throw his hands in the air.

“Surprise! Happy birthday, Eren!” he bellowed, happily.

Eren hesitated, his sports sticks firmly in hand. Reiner went back to rubbing the balloons on his chest, stopping only to stick them to Bertholt’s head when they were acceptably staticked. This wasn’t part of the plan. Who did Annie want him to interrogate first—

“Eren!”

That voice. Eren whirled around, tears springing to his eyes. Armin. Armin, safe and sound in the doorway, holding a bowl of popcorn. A bowl of—but wait.

“You’re…you’re not supposed to eat popcorn with your braces,” Eren reminded him, weakly. “It gets stuck and it hurts you and…”

And Armin smiled, as much thanks for his concern as it was to demonstrate. His braces had disappeared. Had Mikasa kidnapped those too?

“I had an orthodontist appointment today to have them taken off,” Armin explained. “I…thought it’d be a nice surprise for you at your party…”

Mikasa seemed to appear at Eren’s side out of nowhere, and produced a cupcake. Eren sighed and straightened his shoulders, ready to accept the inevitable. Slowly, deliberately, Mikasa pried open Eren’s mouth to jam the cupcake in whole, and worked his jaw up and down to make him chew. Once finished, Mikasa turned her attention to the front door, where Annie stood, grappling hook in hand and scowl plastered across her face.

“Thank you for chauffeuring Eren to his surprise party,” Mikasa said, airily. “I trust you’ll join us for the celebration. I’ve made a milder barbeque sauce for those who can’t handle the standard.”

Annie’s scowl deepened, and she stepped into the house deliberately, slamming the door behind her. Reiner happily strode over to bestow her with a boobie static balloon atop her head, which she immediately seized and popped.

Crisis averted. Crisis averted, Armin was safe, Mikasa was blameless. Eren’s arms were around him tight. Armin set down the popcorn bowl to wind his arms around him in turn, his fingers twining into his hair.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Armin said softly. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

Eren lolled his head on Armin’s shoulder. “S’fine, was just…worried, you know.”

Eren was self-aware enough to know that “flee the house without shoes to team up with a heavily-armed guerilla warfare expert to break into your former foster sister’s house” wasn’t generally considered a reasonable reaction to much of anything. But Armin just hmmed low, and pressed a gentle kiss to his ear.

“For your birthday,” he whispered into Eren’s ear. “Since my braces are gone. Can I try something with you tonight?”

A sudden series of crashes heralded the start of the partygoers attempting to wrestle Annie into a party hat. The banging and glass shattering and sounds of vegetable dip splattering across the walls was an appropriate soundtrack to the great and terrifying boner that had begun its rampage in Eren’s pants and heart. Eren swallowed hard and squeezed Armin to his chest.

“Y-yeah. Definitely.”

The party hat had been bestowed upon Annie. Rather, “hats”—a cheerful circle of hats had been arranged on Annie’s head, like a lion’s mane, or a sunflower. Mikasa gave a small smile of approval at her handiwork, and snapped a picture with her phone. Annie reared back and donkey-kicked Reiner and Bertholt in the stomachs to escape their grip, hurled Sasha and Connie across the room into the couch, and flung herself at Mikasa to roll across the floor and descend with her down the basement steps for a more private battle.

Jean stepped in from the kitchen, holding a steaming bowl of something, and surveyed the carnage before him. He peeked down the basement stairs, winced, and gently shut the door to block out the sounds of kiais and shattering bones.

That bowl that Jean had looked like spinach-artichoke dip. Eren and Jean had their disagreements, but Eren could admit that he made good spinach-artichoke dip. Armin was safe, and may or may not have offered to give Eren a blowjob that evening. Mikasa and Annie were having a fun time in the basement. There was spinach-artichoke dip.

This wasn’t such a bad birthday after all.  
  


* * *

  
As it wasn’t a terribly safe idea to permit Mikasa to drive them home with two black eyes and some shattered ribs, Eren and Armin walked back to Armin’s place on foot; Eren equipped with garbage bags tied to his feet in an attempt to salvage his already-ruined socks. He’d get an earful from his mom once she got there to pick him up, he was sure, but that didn’t seem to matter so much when he and Armin were back in his room, back in his bed. Armin knelt down to gently untie the bags from Eren’s feet, carefully peel off the mud-caked, ripped socks. He examined Eren’s feet with no little distress.

“We’ll have to scrub you so you don’t get an infection from these cuts…” Armin looked up at him, looked him straight in the eye. “You know I appreciate your concern, but I can take care of myself.”

Eren huffed out a sigh. “Armin, I know that, but I was just—”

Armin thunked the first aid kit he kept in his sports bag onto the bed. The touch of a cleansing wipe to Eren’s foot made Eren trail off in a hiss. Armin murmured an apology, dabbing more gently at the cuts.

“I’m not the little kid getting beat up on the playground that I used to be,” Armin said, low. “And I am certainly not a target for any kidnapping attempts.”

After a few quiet minutes, Eren’s feet were wrapped in clean, soft bandages. He flexed them at Armin’s prompt to test their fit. Certainly not the worst injury he’d sustained in the line of duty in protecting Armin.

And despite Armin’s insistence, Eren knew it wouldn’t be the last.

“Sorry,” Eren mumbled. Armin climbed up to sit beside him on the bed, and Eren wound an arm around him, nudged his ear with his lips. “Just can’t turn it off sometimes.”

Armin remained silent for a few long moments, then leaned back to look Eren in the eye once more. His hands came up to cup Eren’s cheeks, carefully, gently, as if he were something breakable and precious. Eren’s hands came up to cover Armin’s.

“Kiss me,” Armin whispered.

Eren certainly couldn’t turn down the opportunity. The first touch of lips was as soft and warm and wonderful as ever, but then Eren’s tongue slipped past Armin’s lips, and _oh_. Smooth and slick as he’d never felt it before, and maybe—maybe Armin could bite his neck now without scratching him and _fuck_ , the second Eren tilted his head back Armin had just gone for it, sucking and biting kisses from his lower lip to his jaw and down his neck.

Armin’s hands slid under and up his shirt, pressed into his chest to push him down onto the bed. A brief scramble of limbs got them situated with Eren’s head on the pillows, his shirt rucked up around his armpits, and Armin testing with teeth and tongue whether Eren enjoyed having his nipples bitten as much as he enjoyed having them at the mercy of Armin’s fingers. Eren definitely saw the advantages to both methods, and expressed his opinion by sobbing out a hoarse stream of obscenities mixed with Armin’s name.

Eren would have come from this alone, hell, he had come from this alone in the past, but that offer that Armin had made at the party stuck in his mind, and the taste of Armin’s slick, wet mouth on his tongue made his dick throb painfully with anticipation. And thank you, fuck, thank you, Armin was kissing down his chest in quick little pecks, paused at the hem of Eren’s pants, pressing soft, lingering kisses to the lines of his hipbones to where they disappeared under Eren’s boxers. His fingers moved to unbutton, unzip, dip under the boxers, and then just _stopped_. Armin settled his chin on Eren’s lower belly, and looked at him, expectant.

Eren heaved breaths through his mouth, and released one white-knuckled hand from the sheets to fist in Armin’s hair. Armin turned his head, eyes sliding shut, and kissed, kissed the inside of Eren’s wrist.

“ _Please,_ ” Eren begged. “Please, _please_.”

Armin gave a soft noise of agreement, and tugged down Eren’s pants and boxers, sliding them down and off his hips and legs until Eren could spread his knees wide, wide enough for Armin to kneel between them, his eyes blue and dark and focused entirely on Eren’s burning, leaking cock. Armin wrapped a hand around the base, gave a few consoling strokes before he leaned down, pink tongue peeking from between his lips and—

Each brush of Armin’s lips and tongue sent a shiver down Eren’s neck, down his spine, shocking through his hips and settling to pulse through his cock. Armin moaned as he sank deeper on Eren’s cock, like he loved it, like just having Eren’s cock on his tongue was enough to get him hard and red and leaking and shaking and coming. And Eren wanted to draw this out, wanted to watch his golden head bobbing between his thighs, wanted to fuck into Armin’s mouth for hours, but fuck, when Armin’s tongue dragged up the underside of his cock, that just wasn’t going to happen. Eren choked back a yell and yanked Armin’s head back with an odd desperation ( _I like the taste but what if he doesn’t and then he’ll never want to do this again_ ), and came on Armin’s lips and chin instead. Armin took a deep gasping breath, gingerly touched his face with his fingers.

Eren fell back against the pillow, feeling like half-melted jelly. He dragged Armin up to him by the underarms, and set to cleaning up his mess with kisses. Armin whimpered into his mouth, pressed his tongue in, moaned and pressed in deeper— _does he like the taste maybe he does I’m sorry for jizzing on your face please can we do this again_ —

Armin laughed at Eren’s vocalization of his concerns. “The taste is fine. I don’t mind it,” he breathed, coming in for another kiss. “And yeah. Yeah, definitely do this again.”

A faintly ridiculous laugh bubbled from Eren’s chest, and his hands came up to cup Armin’s cheeks, drawing him back in.

Eren had a really good track record for awesome birthdays.


	10. Attack of the Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eren and pals tamper with the veil between the living and dead.

The Roomba buzzed determinedly across the classroom floor, alert and on the hunt. The knife taped to its back glinted in the florescent lights.

“This’ll be our replacement for Coach Levi while he’s serving out his house arrest, alright?” Coach Hanji nudged the robot with her foot, gently guiding it out of the corner it’d rolled itself into. “Kinda was pressed for time cooking it up; I only just heard the news. I’ll have a more fancy replacement by week’s end, promise you.”

The Roomba seemed to have Coach Levi’s basic personality down, Eren thought, as it roombed ominously past the students’ desks, patrolling with knife at the ready.  His main concern was the robot’s coaching abilities, especially in the field they faced – the kitchen. Could they really trust this mechanical creature to guide them to victory in the culinary arts? Could they really –

“Oh! Forgot the other feature I added!” Coach Hanji strode over to the Roomba, and pressed a button on the small pack hastily secured to its back.

“Poop,” the Roomba said, clinical and monotone. “Poop, pooping, pooping on a toilet. Smelly poopy. Doody.”

Coach Hanji sighed wistfully. “Almost like having the real thing here. Team’s just not the same without that sweet little face around…”

The Roomba beeped in distress as its rotors clogged on a hunk of dust. Armin rose his hand, and Hanji gestured for him to speak as she knelt to deal with Roomvi, speaking to it in the gentle tones she used when her pythons had something they shouldn’t halfway down their throats.

“…the cooking competition against the Titans is this weekend. Before Coach Levi left, he, ah, hadn’t completed our training–”

“FART BUTTS FULL OF POO,” shrieked the Roomba.

“–which is to say that he didn’t teach us much of anything regarding the cooking process that didn’t involve bleaching countertops and industrial washing machine cycles–”

Hanji chuckled good-naturedly, her hand shoved into the Roomba’s mouth-hole as it yelped further exclamations about pooping. “Aww, is that what you kids are worried about? The fact of the matter is that I’m a real artist when it comes to the kitchen. My specialty this time of year is the Mellocreme Pumpkin and Peanut Butter Sandwich. What you do is you take your little pumpkins and mash ‘em up good with your palm, then you put the peanut butter on the bread, and the mush on the peanut butter, and–”

“Shit,” said the Roomba mournfully. It gave one last garbled honk of distress before its motor coughed out a puff of smoke and dust. Hanji gaped at the flat-lining patient in her arms for but a moment before springing into action. She swept the front bench free of her normal mess, gently set the dying creature down, and began emergency surgery.

The team was stone-faced, and came to a solemn conclusion: as usual, they were on their own.

 

* * *

 

“No,” Eren said. “Fuck no.”

Armin gently cupped his cheek, turning Eren’s face to meet his gaze. Eren resisted as best he knew how – the power of Armin’s gaze was as terrifying as it was beautiful and absolute. Alas, he caught sight of their shining blue, and he was paralyzed.

“Jean’s the best cook out of all of us,” Armin said. “His mother will even help us plan the menu. All we have to do is let him be temporary coach, and we’ll do fine in the competition…”

“ _Temporary._ ” Eren nearly spat out the word. “You know his type. You give him an inch and he takes over the whole team and sells us to the Titans and makes you let him touch your hair for stupid reasons.”

Could Armin really not see Jean’s devious plan? From the look Armin was giving him, it was clear that only Eren had him figured out. First the cooking competition, then the world, and then he’s sleeping with a lock of Armin’s hair under his pillow. Armin shook his head at Eren’s valid concerns, and returned his attention to the papers in front of him.

“…we don’t have much of a choice, unfortunately. After Coach Hanji wasn’t able to repair her Roomba, she’s locked herself in her office, and hasn’t come out for days. Of all of us, Jean’s the only one with any real experience with cooking in that kind of setting, with his family’s business…”

“That doesn’t mean we’ve just got to—bend to his rule,” Eren shot back. “There are plenty of us that can cook, and lead the team without running us into the ground. Mikasa’s a good cook.”

Armin paused in sorting through his papers, picking his words carefully. “…I thought it best that we take a less…intense approach to the competition.”

Mikasa stared balefully from across the room. “The meat must be fresh. I will easily be able to butcher the cow and prepare the steaks during the allotted time limit.”

“…and?” Armin said, as gently as possible. “What about for the other cooking categories? Vegetarian dish, pasta, dessert?”

Mikasa looked lost and confused.

Armin sighed and squeezed Eren’s hand where it was clenched, white-knuckled, on Armin’s thigh. “It was down to Sasha or Jean, and the fact of the matter is, Jean is the better choice for leadership. I know—I _know_ you don’t want to hear that, Eren, but...”

It happened. It had finally happened. The dearest golden treasure of Eren’s heart, Armin Arlert, had been stolen away from him by the adversary. The hole he left in Eren’s soul ached with awful longing, and tears began to pour down his cheeks. How? How was he to go on in a world such as this? Where even the most beautiful and pure souls could be tainted by the machinations of huge douchebags with terrible haircuts?

“Eren? Oh, Eren, not _again_. You’ve got to talk to your father about these flashbacks!”

It was all too much for Eren’s heart and soul to handle; his entire being felt not long for this world. It was all he could do to close his eyes, and let his mind drift off to happier, simpler times…

 

* * *

 

Eren barreled up the sidewalk to Armin’s house with the single-minded drive and determination that came to children on the hunt on that most joyous of holidays: Halloween. Last year, his mommy made him wear an M&M costume and he’d started crying the moment he stepped out on the porch and then fell asleep on the couch. But this year was different. This year, he had Armin to accompany and protect on their perilous safari through the wilds of their local neighborhood. And this year, he was dressed in a fashion far more suitable to such an expedition.

Eren reached the door, and leapt up and down to pound his fist on the doorbell repeatedly.

“Trick or treat! Trick treats Armin come out!!” Eren yelled. His Yoshi costume imbued his soul with the power for a mighty roar.

Finally, the door opened, and there…there stood Armin, hand-in-hand with his grandfather. There stood Armin, dressed as a bumblebee, his antennae bouncing as he carefully stepped outside. Eren felt woozy. Such great power he already had, dressed as his role model, and now, now Armin was dressed as a bumblebee, with bouncy antennae and little stinger on his bottom. The stinger had a sparkly yellow pom-pom at the end.  Eren felt the real and insistent urge to pass out and have a flashback, but was cruelly interrupted by the smack of a plastic katana on his head. He whirled around, eyes welling with tears, to glower at Mikasa.

“Cowabunga,” Mikasa stated.

Being dressed as a Ninja Turtle gave her no right to interrupt his time with Armin, especially since Raphael was way cooler than Leonardo would ever be. Eren wiped his nose on his sleeve and grabbed Armin’s hand (Armin’s _mittened hand_ , with black and yellow stripes to match his costume, and Eren felt ready to pass out at any moment). It was time – it was time for Eren to guide Armin on a journey through a Halloween Wonderland, and bring to him a mountain of goodies, and Eren would give him all his peanut butter cups and maybe, maybe Armin would let Eren give him a kiss on his cheek while he was in the bumblebee costume with his antennae and stinger and mittens, and Eren would never, ever forget it ever in his life –

 

* * *

 

Eren woke up from bleary dreams of mittened hands and pom-poms. His head was pillowed on Armin’s lap as Armin was writing something up on his laptop. Armin stroked his hair from his forehead.

“Good one this time? What about?”

Eren pondered for a moment, pressing a kiss to the center of Armin’s palm as it wandered into range.

“I discovered the source of my long-term resentment against mutant turtles, and also remembered that I always wanted to take up beekeeping.”

“Good. I was chatting with Bertholt about Mathletes plans. Jean’s finalized the menu for the competition and wants to meet with us tomorrow at the fundraiser to discuss.”

Eren’s eyes narrowed. “Us?”

Armin considered his answer carefully. “…me,” he clarified. “But I’ll be including the rest of the team so we all can—Eren! No more of that!”

Armin pinched the back of Eren’s neck, bringing him out of his rapid descent back into the forgotten realms of memory. So Jean was trying to get Armin into his clutches, alone? Eren would fucking see about that, he sure would. He’d see about that with his fist in Jean’s goddamn face—

Armin’s fingers slid into Eren’s hair and began to scratch his scalp. Eren found he was helpless under their assault, his righteous fury fading. But damned if he wasn’t still able to work up a big old sulk about things, and so, he lay there, brooding, and plotting his magnificent counterattack.

 

* * *

 

The plan they’d come up with for fundraising was to host a haunted house. Eren was somewhat on edge – he’d seen enough horror movies to know that this would be the perfect opportunity for their carefree teenage antics to attract the attention of a wandering serial killer and/or ghost and/or swamp monster. All it took was one person taking off their clothes to go shower in the spooky bathroom, and it was all over for the rest of them.

Eren would’ve liked to be at Armin’s side to protect him from any and all serial killers/ghosts/swamp monsters/miscellaneous, but alas, Armin had been assigned bookkeeping and receptionist duties at the front of the attraction. Eren gazed at him mournfully as he was hustled into the back by their substitute coach. He was leaving Armin behind, Armin dressed in a waistcoat and vampire cloak, and neither his heart nor his boner could bear it. Alas, but he would be strong – he would stay strong.

“Alright, that’s–” The substitute, Coach Moblit, trailed off, flicking through his notes nervously. “—I think you guys are back here.  I think that’s what Coach Hanji’s notes say. They’re—they’re a little soaked with tears and snot.”

Coach Moblit gingerly turned a page with the tips of his fingers, and wandered out of the room, mumbling to himself in concerned tones. Eren sullenly glanced at his scare-mate. Annie usually boycotted any and all team fundraising activities unless forced bodily into them, but she had been surprisingly on-board with this – had even offered suggestions. Disappointment had been clear on her face when each and every one was denied due to things like “liability issues” and “concerns about patrons living through whatever you’re diagramming on the whiteboard”, but she had nevertheless swallowed her sorrow, and thrown in her support. Eren could take her example, separated as he was from Armin in his waistcoat. He would endure.

Annie was now in the rafters, carefully assembling a pulley system, presumably for the capture of passing patrons. Eren admired her work from after, feeling a little pain in his heart at the memories of the times those same pulleys had captured him and Armin, of the long and peaceful weekends with him imprisoned in Annie’s basement as bait for Mikasa, of how Armin had the foresight to start stashing caches of food and books down there to sustain them while they awaited rescue. Annie wasn’t an impolite host, of course, but the dead bears she tossed down to them for food were raw, and sometimes not so dead.

Unbidden, Mikasa’s voice echoed through his head – _“The meat must be fresh.”_ – and a tender smile came to Eren’s lips. Those two crazy kids were really meant for each other.

The night went pretty smoothly, in Eren’s opinion – he thought he was an acceptable scare-er, but Annie apparently thought otherwise, and strung him up in the pulleys with the firm instructions to watch her and learn. Indeed, Annie was a masterful scare-er indeed – one memorable encounter had her face-to-face with Ymir, who was perhaps the only team member with a worse track record of team spirit. If Eren’s assumptions were correct – and he was pretty damn sure they were – Ymir had gone into this haunted house with Krista with the intent of impressing her. Ymir was clearly already a wreck by the time she’d reached their room, clinging to the back of Krista’s shirt, sweating and shaking while Krista determinedly marched them through.

Ymir locked eyes with Annie as she lurked through the rafters. Annie held her gaze for an agonizingly long moment.

“Heterosexual intercourse,” Annie hissed from the shadows.

Ymir ran shrieking from the room in an instant, hauling Krista behind her by the collar of her shirt, very nearly lifting her from the ground in her flight. Eren cheered uproariously, as he had done for every successful scare that evening. Annie delivered a roundhouse kick to his capture sack, as she had done every time he cheered that evening, but it was delivered with less force than usual.

“When scaring, one must prey on the deepest fears and primal terrors of your target’s mind. Learn this or you will not survive,” Annie said.

Eren nodded. Annie had delivered many such pieces of advice to him that evening, and it seemed like a lot of them ended in him dying if he didn’t obey.

The night grew long, and the lines of patrons shorter. Finally, it was time for Eren to be freed from the sack, free to run shrieking down the hallways and into the tender bosom of Armin and Armin’s waistcoat. That is, until Reiner barreled into the room, dragging Bertholt behind him with a camera. Reiner whirled around in his sexy witch dress, braced one fishnet-stockinged leg on a dusty box, and flexed for the camera.

“I’m Reiner Braun and this is Ghost Spookers! We spook ghosts–” Reiner flexed, ripping the bodice of his witch dress further. “—before they spook you! We’re here in this haunted house looking for the spirits of the lost and damned–”

Armin entered the room, interrupting Reiner’s monologue. “—Reiner, I was trying to tell you, this is just a cheap tourist attraction built a few years ago…”

Armin trailed off when he spotted Eren in the rafters, and Annie still lurking nearby, her gaze locked on Reiner and her hands poised and ready to hurl the nearest blunt object at him. Eren waved at Armin from the sack.

Armin sighed. “Look, if you want to ghost-hunt, I know plenty of historical spots around town that are open to tours tonight–”

“GUYS I FOUND A OUIJA BOARD LET’S SUMMON THE SPIRITS OF THE LOST AND DAMNED,” Sasha bellowed, storming into the room with a Ouija board held high and proud.

“WHOO! ALL HALLOWS EVE IN HERE!” Reiner bellowed in refrain, tearing off his witch dress completely with his enthusiastic flexing. Bertholt seemed to be a really devoted and professional cameraman, Eren thought. He wasn’t taking that camera off Reiner no matter who burst in the room.

While the others set up the summoning circle, Armin gently lowered Eren to the ground by the pulleys to the sounds of Mikasa confronting Annie in the rafters. However, Eren’s joy at their reunion and his freedom from the sack was short-lived. The adversary approached. Eren’s eyes narrowed.

“…So I was thinking, like we were talking about up front, that Caribbean jerk chicken would be a really solid entrée…” Jean started, scratching behind his ear because he probably had lice or something.

“Wouldn’t that be cannibalism for you?” Eren shot back. “Because, you’re a jerk chicken.”

Fuck, that was probably the sickest burn Eren had ever burnt with. Jean’s whole face went red, and he sputtered for words.

“I’m not a bird! Fucker!” Jean shot back, finally.

Armin looked distinctly pained, and Eren clammed up almost instantly, abashed. The sounds of Connie chanting broken Pig Latin phrases as Sasha hurled handfuls of salt at the walls were distant to his ears, and he barely heard the commotion of Annie and Mikasa hurtling to the ground beside him. It didn’t matter if the burn was sick (though it was). Armin deserved a peaceful evening of damned spirits.

They settled in a circle around the board, holding hands. Or rather, holding on to the pullstrings on the time out sack, in Annie’s case. Annie stared with beady eyes out of the hole before retreating to its depths. Eren looked around nervously. His horror movie senses were tingling. Reiner was already down to his underpants and fishnet stockings (and wow, Bertholt was still a really dedicated cameraman); the evil serial killers couldn’t be too far off.

“So, uh.” Connie squinted at the board. “Who are we summoning?”

“Summon Marco!” Sasha insisted. “He owes me twenty bucks!”

A surprised murmur came from the group. (“Marco’s dead?” “When did that happen?” “Wait, who are we talking about, again? Was he that blond guy with the muttonchops?”)

Sasha shrugged absently. “I just kinda assumed. One of Coach Hanji’s snakes was lookin’ a bit chunky lately.”

Reiner stood up and stepped forward, raising a hand to quiet the crowd. “Let’s just play it by ear for now and see what ghosts are spooking around here.” He thumped his chest with his fists, once, and yelled at nothing in particular. “HEY GHOSTS! YOU’RE DUMB! YOU DON’T SCARE US SO COME TRY TO SCARE US! DO IT, YEAH, DO IT, COME ON!”

Sasha helpfully threw a handful of salt at him to speed the process. While Reiner leapt around the room yelling challenges at the walls, Eren swallowed hard, and squeezed Armin’s hand. Ghosts didn’t exist. They definitely didn’t. Nor did swamp monsters or probably werewolves, maybe. They’d be fine as long as they…

Armin dragged the Ouija board over closer, placing a hand on the roller thoughtfully. Eren gaped at him, scandalized. Mikasa regarded Armin evenly as she reclined on the Annie Sack.

“It is scientifically unsound,” she noted.

Armin nodded in agreement. “True,” he sighed. “And that’s unfortunate. I’d like to summon some figures from the past, I think.”

“Like who?” Eren and Jean said, in unison. And glowered at each other, in unison.

Armin steered the roller around the board with his index finger, hmming in thought. “Some of the anti-establishment thinkers from the European Enlightenment era would be fascinating to speak to. And perhaps Thomas Edison, so I could tell him he’s a thieving hack.”

All of a sudden, there it was – Eren’s worst nightmares come to life. Eren bundled Armin close to him. A spooky bedsheet ghost moaned from the room’s entryway; agitated from rest, perhaps, by Reiner’s challenges. Reiner stood his ground, legs firm and planted wide. Bertholt scrambled between them to lay on his back on the ground, still filming – probably for the dynamic angle, Eren assumed.

“Zombie ghost, leave this place!” Reiner commanded, pointing at the ghost accusingly.

“But this is my hoooooouse,” the ghost moaned, mournfully. “Give me your caaaaash and Halloween treeeats. But nooooone of that tooooothbrush buuuuullshiiiiiiiit.”

And Eren’s heart fell – the ghost could live here no longer, for they were a zombie ghost. He choked out a sob, burying his nose in Armin’s hair. Reiner nodded, and flexed sympathetically.

“Zombie ghost, we’ll kill you again and ease your suffering,” Reiner said, kindly.

The ghost paused, and trailed off in its moaning. “…uh. No, uh, you caaaaaan’t kiiiiiiilll meeeeeee. Just giiiiiiive us your fuuuuuuucking caaaaaash.”

Armin’s voice was muffled in Eren’s armpit as he tried to speak. He squirmed up until his mouth was free – Armin was brave, too brave and kind and good, he was going to try and confront the ghost to save them all and –

“Ymir, we can see your shoes!” Armin finally was able to say.

The ghost halted in spooking, freezing in place just long enough for Mikasa to approach and yank the sheet off. Ymir had Krista on her shoulders. Ymir’s eyes darted back and forth.

“Uh. Boo.”

And lo, was the Ghost of the Spooky House conquered. Ymir cursed loudly as she was stuffed into the time out sack in Annie’s place, noting that she would have gotten away with her dastardly plans, had it not been for her meddling classmates. Halloween was saved, and Eren and Jean reluctantly shook hands as they exited the building – one does not live through such a harrowing ordeal without becoming fast friends.

They had lived to greet a new day, and a new dawn.


End file.
